


Alternators: Isolation

by Falcadore



Series: Transformers: Alternators [1]
Category: Transformers Alternators, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:43:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 49,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3534977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falcadore/pseuds/Falcadore





	1. Silverstreak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Headline (Newsy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newsy/gifts).



The small bulldozer moved back and forth, guzzling diesel from its tanks and spewing it back into the the air as it seemingly pointlessly moved dirt from one side of the abandoned City depot to the other. A small building sat beside the dozers path, nestled against and beneath a freeway overpass, the embankment pushing against the base of the brick-veneer construct. It looked as abandoned as the site it administered.

Around was low cost housing, some built cheaply, some run down over a period of time as the noisy overpass had devalued the suburb. Middle class families moved away, poorer families moved in along with the attendant pressures of living on the financial knife edge. Women walked the straight, dull looks in their eyes, oppressed in one form or another, weather it be the pressures of a young family, pressures from the pimp to make a score to earn the money to go on, or an even more personal, chemically induced pressure.

Squad cars drifted by on occasion, with punters drifting through more often, looking for a quick fix of the pleasures of the flesh, or the pleasures of the powder. In and amongst this drifted the occasional hot hatch rice burner of the dealers, restocking this taking the risks at street level, and couriering the proceeds to the next level of the chain.

Blending in perfectly into the mix was a silver Subaru Impreza WRX. Windows tinted almost black with some hints of red peeking through panel gaps slightly too large for the breed. For underneath the metal lurked not a bored lawyer or leering entrepreneur, or bullying pimp. Underneath was an ancient warrior who had come to this continent before the species had evolved from simians into this society of squalor and decadence co-existing painfully.

Silverstreak had come to this planet millennia ago, wearing a different body, a different face, a different name, and with a different function. When he had arrived he was unaware for centuries, wakening 25 local cycles ago. He was immediately embroiled in the contradiction of his life, the war-hating warrior. An accurate shot, a perfect artillerist and missileer, he was a reluctant and valued member of Optimus Prime's ship of fools, off into the galaxy searching for energon to feed a starving planet.

The nobility of the rescue of Cybertron quickly faded into the nightmare of being marooned in time and space with only Decepticons for company on the foetid clump of vegetable decay called Earth.

A decade was then spent fighting Decepticons into submission before Optimus death and the subsequent leadership crisis the ran alongside Unicron's attack on Cybertron. After surviving the siege of Autobot City and the siege of Cybertron, Silverstreak, known then as Bluestreak, had returned to Earth, the planet he hated, with several other Autobots on mopping up missions, searching for Decepticon criminals.

Several had banded together and had raided a manufacturing district in Japan in search of materiale and energon to survive in the post Megatron era. He and Smokescreen had defended the area alone when he had been struck down.

He had awoken two years later by Smokescreen, a very different Smokescreen. As Smokescreen had told it, their bodies had been too heavily damaged to repair locally. No Autobot medics were on planet, and contact with Cybertron had been suddenly lost. With the wreckage of their bodies placed in storage, newer bodies had been constructed by the plant they had saved and they both now wore the badges of a grateful workforce as Subarus. Bluestreak, renaming himself Silverstreak due to a need to rebirth his own identity, had been shipped by boat to America to complete his rehabilitation while for similar reasons, that differed technically Smokescreen had been sent to Britain.

That had been over a year ago. Since then Silverstreak had had no contact with anyone he knew save for Subaru personnel in North America who kept him fuelled and alive. Now like a character from American television he roamed his adopted nation, its populace unaware of the powerful warrior in their midst.

This evening Silverstreak wandered the back blocks of Los Angeles in California, gradually driving South towards a half suggested rendezvous in Mexico. Subaru had not been able to put him in contact with Smokescreen, who appeared to have been seconded elsewhere within the arms of the Japanese automotive constructor, and they knew of no other Autobots to contact. Autobots were no longer popular in North America, scene of so much of the Earth-bound parts of the Cybertronian civil war.

Where once Bluestreak had been motivated by personal revenge against Megatron and had waking nightmares of the last night of Praxus, Silverstreak found no great ire could be formed towards the unhinged antics of Galvatron and he had come to terms with his status as Praxian survivor, a status reinforced by his present isolation from the Autobot armies he had fired so many shots in anger for.

Bluestreak's anger had boiled away and the Cybertron he had missed no longer called to Silverstreak and he wandered aimlessly without any motivation. His new weapon, fashioned by the techs of STi nestled under Silverstreak's hood having not been fired since it had been tested back in Japan. He wandered if he ever saw another Autobot, or even a Decepticon if he would even transform and greet them. He almost felt he had more in common with those Decepticons left on the run from the now authorised Autobots than the enforcer he had briefly become.

Silverstreak had become an isolationist observer, but nonetheless had had received a calling to head South and to cross the border into Mexico. What he might find there, he had no idea of. But for the moment he would spend a rest cycle here, amongst the decadent decay of Californian society. The change he perceived in his near future could wait.

Wait until the star rose in the sky once more...

Next: Chapter 2: Sideswipe


	2. Sideswipe

The sun peeked over the horizon of the long flat plains of the arid Arizona landscape. A landscape constantly baked then frozen each twenty four hours with little variation and only ever the hope of precipitation. For miles around there was nothing but sand, scrub, the occasional tumble-weed. A vision of camel grass and the occasional rusted abandoned car. One of the best climate controlled regions on the planet with the dial stuck permanently on inhospitable.

It was a land of survivors. Plants that could get by on the smallest moisture. Scavenger animals eating the leavings of others abandoned for days. Predators that preyed on predators. A rattlesnake emerged from its night time slumber, and slithered its way to its customer morning warming spot, a ribbon of black, completely alien to the environment, and yet now a part of it. On the edge of a strip of tarmac, which soaked up heat and radiated, the black surface would soon to hot enough to fry chicken eggs, and the cold blooded snake needed the warmth to function. The snake suddenly froze, a moments warning, a trembling on the air, a vibration in the ground. Another survivor, another predator approached. With a flash of red and the cacophony of briefest sound it was gone, travelling at unnatural speeds heading Southwards towards a destiny that did not involve trying to find the least venomous insect of any size to eat.

Red Dodge Vipers were a common sight of the interstates of America. They had largely replaced the Chevrolet Corvette as a symbol of the great front engined American roadster, an automotive stuff-you to sports car trends the world over, the Viper and its Corvette cousin reflected the country of their origin and the people loved them and desired them and lusted after the concept of owning a convertible version to drive along the famed Route 66. This Viper however carried no tourist lost in a nostalgic vision of a youth as much a fallacy as the basic merits of the car they drove. This Viper had a name, a purpose, a vision, and burning desire for vengeance.

Once Sideswipe had been a happier figure. One of several non-specialist warriors Optimus Prime had added to his crew of the Ark to fill empty berths and act as insurance against the worst, Sideswipe had found himself and his fellows inadequate to the task when the worst had arrived in capital letters wearing a sharp outlined insignia in metallic purple.

Sideswipe had always revelled in his abilities as a warrior, thoroughly competent in the art of combat and the dealing of death, and yet willing to take risks beyond the return they represented, his life over the next few years marooned on earth had been busy, but fulfilling.

And always standing at his elbow was his golden mirror image, a counterpart to the scarlet, his twin brother Sunstreaker. Colder, vainer and more calculating by comparison, but still the ability to fight well above his weight, and with technical ability that the like of Optimus Prime had to make up for with much larger more powerful frames. The pair had cut chaos through Decepticon lines for decades in a blurred vision of metal, lasers and missiles.

Survivors as warriors, the pair had stepped through the civil war on Earth and the fight for survival against Unicron with a shrug and a new limb for each battle with the belief that the profligate use of every weapon that came to hand was the only true way to win a war.

Just six months ago it had all come to a crashing halt.

Returning to earth as part of the mopping up taskforce under Ultra Magnus, the twins had been tasked with hunting down a Stunticon that had been sighted in Europe. A Stunticon, or a Construticon or a Combaticon or a Predacon capture was invaluable as just capturing one removed a gestalt super warrior from pitched battles. Predacons and Combaticons were notoriously difficult take-downs, and as yet Predaking and Bruticus remained unmolested. The Constructicons always travelled in a pack and separating one from the herd was a task yet to be completed.

Stunticons however were another matter.

Generally the five Stunticons hated each other and worked together only out of necessity or under threat of better armed superiors. Their leader Motormaster was a testosterone soaked idiot and there was little co-operation between Breakdown, Dead End, Drag Strip and Wildrider, so reports of maroon Porsche 928 causing havoc attracted the brother quickly to Dead Ends trail. The pair finally cornered Dead End in Italy only for the pair to suddenly find all five Stunticons were present and the Italian army was forced to help fight off Menasor. Sideswipe had taken a terrible personal risk to get the gestalt fractured and take down Motormaster in typical Sideswipe fashion. It was a move that devastated his own body and exposed Sunstreaker to the attentions of the remaining four. After beating Sunstreaker into a messy and violent submission they dragged Motormaster away under the guns of the Italian Army.

The pair were medivacced to the now abandoned Autobot City where human mechanics, mechanical engineers, structural engineers and system analysts worked to try and save Sideswipes Cybertronian body. They failed. American automotive giant Chrysler had come to the rescue and in an emergency operation, Sideswipe had his brain and consciousness transferred to an experimental construct which imitated the concept of the Autobot cars. No longer a Lamborghini and now a Viper, Sideswipe was in recovery when hoping to take advantage, Menasor returned. Having followed them from Europe they now forced the injured Sunstreaker into making the ultimate sacrifice for the brother he loved so dear.

After boldly separating the Gestalt into its five components, Sunstreaker heavily damaged the Ferrari 308 of Wildrider, but at a dreadful cost to himself. Once again the four Stunticons dragged their fellow away from a devastated Lamborghini twin. Sunstreaker was then prepared for the transfer to a yellow Viper when the four Stunticons attacked again. Sideswipe, unfamiliar with his new body; unprepared and under gunned he could not prevent the Stunticons from spiriting away Sunstreaker's new body. Sunstreaker’s last chance gone, trapped in the shattered body he had so adored in life, his spark faded away before his brother’s optics. Sunstreaker joined the Matrix like so many before, but not before eliciting the promise from Sideswipe that the red Viper would have made to himself regardless. That promise would only be fulfilled with the life-fuel of five Decepticons.

Inconsolable, Sideswipe went on a rampage, tearing apart Detroit until the Stunticons were discovered. Sunstreaker's new body had been repainted and prepared for the dying Wildrider, but Sideswipe ventilated his spark within a minute of tearing down the wall of the warehouse and quickly engaged and defeated Drag Strip. Motormaster had raced off with Sunstreaker's intended body encased his trailer within while Breakdown and Dead End tried to perform a last rear guard action. Finally losing a leg, Sideswipe disembowelled Dead End. Faced with the choice of saving Drag Strip, Dead End or neither, Breakdown had grabbed the physically closer Dead End and turned an ran as fast as he could with the wounded Porsche.

Regaining his footing after a fashion Sideswipe waited until Drag Strip come back on line before stating two words and using his rifle at point blank to reduce the Tyrrell P34s head into debris. Chrysler employees had found Sideswipe still standing over the remains of Drag Strip and Wildrider and repaired the Viper. Chrysler corporate officials however suggested that after his rampage, that Sideswipe was no longer welcome in Detroit. A grieving Sideswipe acceded to their demands without question despite the words of a Chrysler crony in the shape of Hound.

Initially Hound, himself grieving for Sunstreaker's loss, had accompanied Sideswipe on his return to the mission, but when Sideswipe has stated those two words once more and slaughtered Motormaster before his astonished eyes, a sickened Hound had left Sideswipe to his crusade. Since then Sideswipe had stated those two words once more and Breakdown, tauntingly still holding the Lamborghini Countach shape that both the twins had worn with honour into battle, was now finding out what Decepticons did in the afterlife.

Now heading South towards the border, Sideswipe was stalking Dead End, who sickeningly now wore the body intended for Sunstreaker. Sideswipe had vowed to find this parody of his lost brother and to state those two words once more before introducing Dead End's spark to the nitrogen/oxygen atmosphere of Earth.

For Sunstreaker.

Next Chapter 3: Hound


	3. Hound

The air was thick with humidity and hung in the air, like a barely perceptible fog, but there was nothing soothing or cold about this fog that drifted through the tall and ancient trees, hovering at the leafy canopy. It was a rain that refused to fall, and it drenched through in an equal measure of condensation and sweat, the clothing of any of the humans in the area. Just walking was toil, and breathing was an effort, magnified by the thin atmosphere of altitude.

Everywhere you looked the land was green, the thick green of vegetation that had existed here for thousands of years. Trees aged, grew old and died here and were replaced, the harsh fingers of drought never reached this far up in the hills above the Yucatan. Moss grew everywhere, the temperature was cold for Earth norm, even this close to the equator, animals were scarce, even birds were few with so little air to breathe.

And yet this place had an atmosphere that was thick despite the lack of air. The feeling of stillness, of civilisation abandoned, the sense of history and of loss, of a people once proud, now scrabbling for pesos elsewhere in this troubled land. There was also a sense of menace, once active and hungry but now stilled, of a conflict bloodied but past.

Hound had personally witnessed one of those battles, a participant even. The ancient Mayan temple had aged little over the previous twenty years. The aged Mexican artefact was these days a closed site, thanks to the discovery of the wreckage of the Nemesis back in 1984. The Cybertronians had made quite a mess of the site at the time, and the archaeological rehabilitation had taken quite some time. The expedition originally was not going to be allowed access to the site but Hound had made an impression on the local custodians when prompted, and the promise of tourist income into an impoverished land was a tantalising prospect to local authorities eager for even the hint of a future free from financial oppression.

When the Ark crew had revived, Hound found himself in a completely new environment, so different in every respect of the ceramic, plastic and metal of Cybertron. Hound had instantly fallen in love with this new planet. He also loved his new alt mode as an Army utility Jeep. Hound loved nothing more than to get the grit between his tyre treads and drive to the horizon.

Having survived the Dark Ages as part of Optimus Prime's lost patrol, Hound found himself in the thick of fighting during the first Terran Wars, but when the Unicron War erupted on Cybertron Hound was still on Earth, and had remained there throughout the conflict.

When contact was lost Hound kept in touch as he could through his military contact, built up over years as a military vehicle. It was through the military that he first heard of the human created frames. After years of attempting to replicate transformer technology with automatons and failing a different approach had been trailed. When one was created in the form of a Jeep Wrangler, Hound himself came up with the link and his spark chamber and intelligence was carefully transferred into the new frame. Hound loved this new body and its potential that he forgot about his former body. Chrysler had a second frame half finished when the drama of the twins and the Stunticons emerged into Hound's sphere of influence. With two frames rapidly converted into Dodge Vipers at Hounds request he took one and flew to Autobot City, long since abandoned by Rodimus Prime when war with the Decepticons had shifted away from Earth and towards other worlds.

When Sunstreaker had died Hound felt a great sense of grief he had not felt since the great battle was fought over this very city. He had never been close to Sunstreaker but he had always been aware of the bond between Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Hound felt a great sense of pity for the depth of Sideswipe's less and felt duty bound to fill Sunstreaker's shoes and followed Sideswipe in pursuit of the Stunticons after the pair were told to leave Illinois. Hound quickly found himself ill at ease with this new driven Sideswipe. The ferocity of his attack and the subsequent torture of Motormaster had left Hound sickened and wondering if Sideswipe was any better than the Decepticons he was hunting. Hound left Sideswipe to his crusade and spurned all further contact with any of the warriors he once called comrades and friends.

He found solace in exploration and leapt at the chance to join an expedition into Mexico's lost stone citadels of the past. A few weeks of historical study, research and archaeology would be just the break the former scout determined he needed. The humans were cautious around their new travelling companion, but Hound turned on what charm he was able, and opened himself up in a manner he had never done before with an Autobot. They had responded and he now enjoyed the same kind of bond with the members of the expedition he had once wondered about when he saw Bumblebee with Spike Witwicky and Wheeljack with Sparkplug Witwicky.

At first the destination had troubled Hound until he decided to deliberately ignore his past association with this temple but after a week on site the Autobot found himself less able to abandon his past as he had thought or hoped. What the humans had found at the site had excited them, but troubled Hound. The revelation of the link the device had with the past, and with the remains of the Nemesis was suddenly too troubling for Hound to deal with by himself.

He was going to need help.

One feature built into Hound's frame was the ability to connect with all subsequent frames. Originally it had been imagined that this frame could remote control one, or all of the others in a kind of bloodless army of automata. Hound had never been tempted to try the technology, even when he had watched Sideswipe butcher Motormaster. Now he tried a subtle version of it. Recalling the location of the Nemesis, Hound reached out and touched the other frames. He did not put any force or power into the message but merely conveyed a sense of urgency and the image of the Nemesis. Hopefully that would be enough to summon his colleagues, his former colleagues.

All that was left for Hound to try was to keep the humans from discovering what he had. He doubted they would like its revelations much.  
He doubted they would like it at all.

Next Chapter 4: Smokescreen


	4. Smokescreen

It was a visual and sensory assault. The keening, howling wind drove across the surface with no obstruction to slow it down, driving gobs of rain into long thin streaks which pounded the decking with a physical impact that would cause pain for the crew. In more northerly latitudes they would freeze into miniature spears that could lacerate and then numb the wound in an instant. Metres below tonnes of dark green sea water gathered itself and hurled itself against the plates of the vessel for the thousandth, the ten thousandth, the millionth time, trying to pound the ship back into its component pieces.

The vessel, the MV Atlantic Traveller, was pounding its way across the oceans after leaving Liverpool two weeks ago, was now only a couple of days from Veracruz when the storm had whistled south from the region of the famed Bermuda triangle. The storm however failed to carry south any lost forty-year-old aircraft, and brought only the fury of the oceans with it. While the Atlantic Traveller lurched with each crash of the waves, it was a lurch the ship was built to withstand.

Aboard the Traveller was several thousand shipping containers, and amongst them were several containers containing equipment essential for the forthcoming Mexican round of the World Rally Championship, the Corona Rally Mexico. The Japanese supported, British-based Subaru team had two containers to themselves full with spares, equipment, telemetry monitoring gear, communications gear, a demountable service area, and two of the $400,000 rally cars. There was a third car; on the exterior this car looked identical to the two Impreza WRC2004s strapped securely in position. The interior however was a compromised design and did not hold the same sparse look as the stripped and rebuilt rally cars. For all intents and purposes this car was a look-alike mock up of the real thing. Reality was somewhat different.

Underneath the blue and gold war paint of the Prodrive Subaru World Rally Team, was the deceptively thin alloy-ceramic armour plating, then the alien based engines and mechanicals of the Cybertronian Autobot warrior Smokescreen. A specialist in diversionary tactics, he had been sent to earth as part of Perceptor's reinforcement team once Optimus Prime's legendary lost patrol had regained contact with Cybertron. He had been an instrumental part of Prowl's tactical planning group during the secondary campaigns during the Terran wars before the arrival of Galvatron on Cybertron revitalised flagging Decepticon forces. While Galvatron's motives had been personal, it had had the effect of tempering Cybertron's defences for the subsequent arrival of Unicron. Shockwave had rallied the Decepticons behind him when Galvatron and his lackeys Cyclonus and Scourge had deserted the Decepticon army. When Hot Rod had pulled the miracle out of his metaphorical sub-space sock, Autobots and Decepticons had been fighting side by side. Shockwave disappeared during the assault and the 'alliance of logic' had dissolved shortly after Unicron's explosive decapitation.

Smokescreen had returned to Earth with a force led initially by Rodimus Prime, and later by Ultra Magnus as the burden of leadership had told heavily on the young leader. When contact had been lost with Cybertron, Ultra Magnus and a small force of Autobots had left aboard one of the two Autobot shuttles still assigned to Autobot City. When contact with Ultra Magnus was then lost Autobot leadership had fallen apart. Jazz had tried to patch things up and had sent Smokescreen to Japan. Grabbing Bluestreak along the way, the pair had had to defend a heavily industrialised sector of Japan against a Decepticon assault made up of a rag tag group of Earth based 'Cons left behind by Starscream's sudden retreat aboard Astrotrain and some who had returned since the Unicron war led, badly, by the suddenly re-appeared Shockwave.

Bluestreak's ever impressive gunnery fire reduced the number substantially while their forces approached but he fell quickly, and badly once the fighting got up close and personal. Smokescreen's layered traps around the facility had reduced the opposition to Shockwave himself. Aware that Bluestreak was probably dying, Smokescreen had fought the giant Decepticon communicator with a desperate ferocity he had never achieved before, and eventually forced the monocular Decepticon into a ragged disorganised retreat.

The technicians at the nearby facilities they had so valiantly defended, had done what they could for the devastated Bluestreak and Smokescreen supervised his placement in hibernation. His own crippled body, which away from the Cybertronian technology that was his lifeblood, could not be repaired, but with assistance from Hound and the Chrysler corporation, Subaru were able to construct a new experimental body for Smokescreen in time to save his life, and in time replicated one for Bluestreak. Two years had passed in the meantime, and while Jazz had visited once, he too had disappeared. He had lost contact with Hound shortly after hearing of Sunstreaker's death.

With construction complete their new bodies needed fine tuning. Smokescreen was sent to Britain, to liaise with Prodrive, who had been fascinated with some of the concepts Cybertronian technology had opened up for them. Bluestreak was sent to America to the analytical laboratories available to Subaru there, and Smokescreen had lost contact with Bluestreak as well.

Smokescreen had found working with the engineers and mechanics of Prodrive fascinating, and the mystery of a front line motor racing team was excellent for keeping the Autobot out of the public eye. He had agreed to travel with the team into the field for the Mexican event, and placed himself, reluctantly, into energon hibernation aboard the Traveller for the trip across the Atlantic. That hibernation come to a halt early when the message from Hound had slammed through his systems with all the subtlety of Soundwave's sonic blaster.

It took him several minutes to decipher where in the pitch blackness of the container where he was and what the sounds outside were. It took several more minutes to decipher the transmission from Hound, and several more minutes to determine a travel plan from where Prodrive were due to unload to Guatemala. He hoped David Richards would understand, as an 'employer' he had been brilliant to associate with. There was however nothing he could do until his container was unloaded. So rather waste energon and go mad from the aural assault of the storm outside, Smokescreen slowly slipped back into hibernation. It was over a year since he had even spoken to an Autobot. It was an effort to quell his sudden excitement over seeing another Autobot again.

Once more the Autobot slept.

Next Chapter 5: Tracks


	5. Tracks

The rattle and flash of multitudes of flashbulbs once again lit up the stage. The tall underdressed model slinked across the stage with as much grace as she could muster in the tall stiletto heels she was wearing in the cold Californian air, or at least as cold as California could muster. The heavily moustachioed, overweight driver stepped out of the car as gracelessly and the model had been graceful, popped on a Stetson cowboy hat and posed dramatically on the reviewing stand for the cameras. The model allowed her partially bare rear to brush against the paintwork and theatrically jerked above and away from the bonnet with a 'sexily-shocked smile' or at least that was what the script had called for and the sound of a seven litre Chevrolet V8 revved enthusiastically twice before retreating to its standard threatening burble.

The reviewing stand was set into the a driveway set up to one end of a conference room, the immaculate cars rolling along at under 10 kilometres an hour, entering through a wide caterers entrance, driving up the ramp to the review stand and parking on the large rotating podium which spun the cars gracefully through 180 degrees before pointing them back towards the doorway they had entered.

The newest arrival on the rotisserie was a gleaming metallic blue 2004 Chevrolet Corvette Z06. The only obvious concession to the extravagance of this vehicular concourse d'elegance was extra layers of clear paint which had been added to deepen the look of the cars livery and the great red and yellow stylised flames stretching up the Corvette's enormously long bonnet. But obvious was the word of choice. If the bonnet was to be popped on the Vette, a finely polished ZR-1 V8 engine would be revealed underneath, it was however a 3D hologram. The reality of this Corvette was quite different.

These days Tracks tended not to explore his reality. He had been truly content with his old form in the 'coke bottle' look of 1980's Chevy Corvette that he had been templated with upon arriving on Earth with Perceptor's reinforcements, but had been truly taken with the Z06 model style when it had been offered to him. The chance to update was grabbed with both hands, although he was unimpressed with the GM Corporate yellow he was forced to wear initially when he was enticed to work with General Motors research and development arm after the isolation of the Autobot survivors. It had allowed him to work with the factory supported sports car racing team, and pounding around test tracks and race tracks of America with them had been tremendous fun. He had even travelled with the team to Le Mans in 2004, a reward for his service to the team in the final year of running the C5-R race car and had been thrilled to watch the team's come from behind victory over the Ferrari teams. With the closure of the C5-R program Tracks had been offered an update to Z06 in looks and paintwork of his preference. Tracks immediately picked the blue with the flaming bonnet reminiscent of his former body, now sitting in storage.

He missed the wings of his former flight mode, but the less sophisticated human built frame made up for it in simplicity and ruggedness, and the extremely attractive Z06 body style. Tracks now spent virtually all the time in his alt mode, and he spent his time with a former Chevrolet employee, now standing beside Tracks sporting a ridiculous moustache and hat, and periodically entered themselves in competitions like these.

Tracks had received Hound's summons a week ago, but had ignored it, preferring to show himself off in all his glory before the admiring cameras. Hound could wait. There were no Decepticons to shoot so why should he rush? Tracks once again felt a strange rush from the physical contact of the scantily clad model as she crawled up on Tracks' bonnet, thankfully sturdier than the fibreglass body of the Chevrolet original and reclined for the cameras, showing enough flesh to strongly convey the image of sex on wheels, without becoming pornographic. Tracks' wondered of his vorns long isolation from Autobot Femmes was having a strange affect on his personality and on certain... preferences. Tracks had not vocalised the thought to anyone. He noticed in America such concepts were quite troubling to humans. The rotating platform clicked home and Tracks motored slowly down the ramp, driver on board, model still reclined, as if on a large blue sedan chair. Hound could wait until tomorrow.

But there was always another car show.

Next Chapter 6: Dead End


	6. Dead End

A ridgeline was an odd place to put a fence. This was an odd place in the way that it didn't fit, it did fit. The watcher's head hurt. He had other problems however.

The local time was 3am. There had been quite a bit of activity earlier in the night. A group of humans had been carried to the fence in a van. They de-camped, crossed the fence and started to scatter and move away from the fence where there were rounded up in another van, rather reluctantly and carried away again.

Dead End did not understand human behaviour at all. He had never really tried so perhaps he should not seem surprised. That was several hours ago, and time was a real issue for Dead End. Dead End was on the run. But Dead End had to wait. He did not want to leave a trail, so he would spend the time in order to attain a little stealth.

The black Dodge Viper sat around a kilometre from the fence. The fence was the border between New Mexico and Mexico. Mexico did not look significantly older than New Mexico to Dead End. Both sides of the fence were open scrub. Small trees, with little vegetation and little animal life of any size were laid out before the Decepticon. Once the successions of vans and fence climbing humans had stopped, and the dark watcher had waited several hours, Dead End transformed, stood, and walked towards and over the fence and started scouting around for a road. He checked his internal systems again. Energon levels had not magically increased since his last check.

Tired. So very tired. All Dead End could think about was how tired he was.

Dead End was a Stunticon. But now it seemed the name no longer had any meaning.

When the Stunticons had been created, they had been designed with the intention of cutting back on Autobot superiority on the roads, plus the ability to form a Gestalt Super Warrior as Menasor was certainly appreciated in pitched battles. Regularly Menasor had found itself facing off against the Protectobot Gestalt Defensor. For years they had been Megatron's mad crazy car mob, forever trying to run Optimus Prime's group of cars off the road.

Comparatively Dead End was a level head amongst the Stunticons. At least he still had a head.

Dead End had never been a great fan of the war, or of being part of a Gestalt team. He only really hung around with the others because the kept him fuelled and fed and because if he left they would shoot him. Created in the shape of maroon Porsche 928, Dead End had taken to his name with an enthusiasm that matched its sentiments. He had seemed content to wait out his little chunk of the war in company of his fellow Stunticons until the missile with his name on it arrived and blew apart his cranial armour. Now the other Stunticons were all dead and Dead End's fatalism had been abandoned in his sudden loneliness for fear and panic. For all his career the Decepticon who cared for nothing and just gone with the flow, firing only when shouted at, he was now on the run and found he cared for his lost compatriots and now found his own continued existence of paramount importance.

Looking back, the biggest mistake they ever made was killing Sunstreaker. The smart mouthed yellow Autobot had been a supreme annoyance for Decepticons for decades; his death should have been a joy. Instead an irate and grief stricken twin brother Sideswipe had gone on a personal rampage. Dead End had his own body destroyed. Wildrider was dead; Drag Strip was missing presumed dead. Motormaster was very dead indeed. Dead End had not heard from Breakdown since he had gone out to find some fuel for the pair of them and he was not answering radio calls. After a third attempt to contact Breakdown, Dead End had fled his now unsafe house and had not stopped running since.

And what chilled Dead End most was that he was wearing a new body fashioned for Sunstreaker which could have saved the Autobot's life. Sideswipe was unlikely to look favourably on that. Dead End had a brief visual of Sideswipe blowing up every black Dodge Viper from Chicago to the Mexican border. Dead End almost wished he had not been given the chance to wear the body they had stolen for Wildrider. Almost. Dead End had discovered a will to live he had never been previously aware of before.

But that was not the end of Dead Ends problems. Of all the things Dead End expected to be thinking about, he did not expect it to be what the humans called multiple personality disorder. For Dead End was not the only Decepticon crying in his sleep inside this Autobots frame, with an Autobot’s symbol, covered but still etched into the torso armour. Dead End was being driven mad by Menasor. Menasor was now dead too, he just wouldn't lie down and pass beyond. All five of the bodies that made up the Super Warrior were destroyed and the majority of his identity that was independent of the five Stunticons was destroyed utterly while Sideswipe had tortured Motormaster. Dead End knew this because a piece of Menasor lived on within his own spark, and pined for the four fifths that was now gone. Dead End knew exactly when Motormaster had died, taking with him the bulk of Menasor's intelligence. Dead End knew he would never be free of that feeling, until all of his feelings were dulled permanently. Menasor would always be there crying, shouting and worst of all blaming. He felt it cursing Motormaster's stupidity. He cursed Breakdown's unhinged madness. He cursed Wildrider for allowing his first death, the physical death. He cursed Drag Strip for simply being dead.

And he cursed Dead End because there was someone still alive to hear his curses. Dead End decided it was going to drive him insane, and once that happened then Menasor would get his wish and he would not be able to defend himself from Sideswipe's vengeance.

Dead End had never sought hope, never expected it. Never expected to be handed it from another and he certainly never expected to get it from an Autobot. But there had been a summons from Hound to come to Guatemala. He was sure it was not intended for him but sent generally to all Autobots, and he was reminded again of the origin of his body.

And suddenly Menasor had another reason to curse Dead End.

However, if Hound was in Guatemala, and other Autobots might be there, then maybe there might be some hope that Sideswipe could be held back. Dead End did not know Hound other than a dark green figure crouched behind a rifle on the other side of enemy lines. He did not have the history some Decepticons had with the Autobots that had been trapped on this fetid mudball of a planet that had invented bitumen roadways, which had allowed some rivalry’s to become intensely personal. But suddenly Dead End found himself believing in the goodness of others, and in the hope the Hound may hold an answer for his continued existence.

He wondered if that was a good trait for a Decepticon warrior to hold. In light of his recent lack of contact with his colleagues, he also wondered whether he even was a Decepticon anymore.

Menasor stirred again.

No matter which way he turned, Sideswipe was sure to follow. Maybe there would be safety in numbers. Maybe there might even be a Decepticon. And maybe, for however briefly, he would not feel so tired anymore.

Next: Chapter 7: Jazz


	7. Jazz

“Hey man, don’t have a cow or nothin'. I just got to gets me passage to Central America. What’s a cat gotta do? Is there anyway I can do something to help move this along?”

“I’m afraid sir; there is little I can do until my supervisor gets back to me. In the meantime we are trying to establish your immigration status to see if you can enter our country.”

“Fine, deport me, but please deport me towards Central America!”

“The Department of Immigration does not work in that manner sir. In the mean time we would like you to be considering being moved to our processing centre on Nauru.”

“Look little lady, I’m sure your very good at your job, but I am not emigrating to Australia, I am travelling, trying desperately to find my family, and now I find they are in Guatemala and I have to get there!”

“Your family." The customs official looked at the talking car sceptically before continuing lamely. "My supervisor will be with you shortly.” The officious government official spun on her heels and marched away down the warehouse, her steps echoing on the high ceiling. Jazz could almost have shot someone out of frustration. Why did it have to be so hard organising things? How did Optimus deal with this sort of thing? Jazz sat in his car mode inside a customs warehouse quarantine facility in Botany Bay, south of Sydney. Jazz had been scouring the world, searching for his fellow Autobots. When contact with Cybertron had been lost, Ultra Magnus had taken what troops he could find and taken off in a shuttle heading for Cybertron, leaving Jazz in charge on Earth. Jazz had only recently returned to Earth. During the lost years marooned on Earth, Optimus Prime had decided Jazz held much potential to be a future commander, and after the conclusion of the Unicron War he was given a command of a small unit patrolling outer territories, prior to being recalled as Magnus' second for this mopping up mission to Earth. Since then he had been scouring the planet, trying to piece together his scattered command. He had visited Smokescreen during his rehabilitation in Japan with Bluestreak still in a coma in cold storage, but both had since disappeared. Jazz had had some contact with Hound around the time the twins were reported chasing the Stunticons. He had he also heard of Sunstreaker's subsequent death, but at the time had been trapped in Europe. By the time he arrived in America, both Hound and Sideswipe had moved on. He then heard that Outback had been found in Australia and had been fighting to get into the country only for one of his human contacts to get in touch with him to inform him instead of Outback it was the grave of his former friend, the valiant warrior Brawn, killed during the fight for Autobot City years ago. What Brawn's remains were doing in Australia was a mystery for another time.

He knew where Wheeljack and Grimlock were if needed, although he wondered weather Grimlock would ever be much use either as a warrior again, or as someone willing to obey Jazz' orders. He also knew where Skids was, but Jazz was loath to take him away from his patient, a situation which saddened him as much as Grimlock's inability to deal with life frustarted him.

How do you steer a ship without a rudder? If a comedian tells a joke on stage in front of an empty audience, does anybody laugh? And what exactly was a commander without a command? These were some of the questions that plagued Jazz. Commanding a small team in border skirmishes had been something easy and well within his comfort zone, even playing to his strengths after years as Optimus Prime's dirty tricks department.

Jazz had been offered a re-template on arrival with Ultra Magnus troops, the better to blend in as Porsche 934 racing cars did not exactly blend in to the local environment. Initially Jazz refused, not wanting to lose his much lover but now disused light and sound rig. However with the increasing numbers of Autobots being forced into human constructed frames, Jazz was forced towards adopting a human frame because of compatibility issues. While human frames could interact easily with the Cybetronian frames, the other direction was quite slow and Jazz had found it reduced his ability to lead effectively. Ultra Magnus departure from Earth just accelerated the decision, and the Porsche was gone in favour of a bright shiny white Mazda RX8.

The timing of the shift had turned out to be important, as no sooner than he had taken delivery of his frame when the rumour had arrived about Outback. If the rumour had arrived earlier he would have further delayed the frame transplant. And if he had travelled to Australia in his Cybetronian/Porsche frame he would not have received the summons. Jazz had been shocked and cheered to receive Hound's strange summons, coming with it the opportunity to gather together a large number of Autobots at once rather than this fruitless wild goose chasing across the planet.

"You Jazz?" Jazz had only just noticed the human male who had entered the warehouse from the East. He was wearing an overly dramatic hat and trench coat, making him look like an 80's TV detective.

"Sure Mike Hammer, what can I do for you?"

"You officer commanding of Autobot's on Earth?"

"Yes." This reply was far more cautious.

"You've been served." With that the bailiff tossed an envelope onto Jazz' Mazda RX8 bonnet and turned to leave.

"You know I can't read that."

"Not my concern."

"Since I haven't officially entered this country I don't think the serve will count in a court of law. Read it to me, and I'll accept it." The bailiff continued to follow in the steps of the customs official. "You won't get paid if the serve ain't acknowledged." The bailiff stopped. After a moment hesitation he turned back and opened the envelope.

"It's a summons to repay a financial debt or to be declared bankrupt in America from AmEx."

"Who?"

"American Express. The credit card company."

Now Jazz remembered. To help ease the acquiring of goods back not long after the Autobots had revived in Oregon, the Autobots had acquired a credit card as the world seemed to run on an economy of digitally stored currency. Since the death of Optimus Prime and the war shifting emphasis away from Earth, the account must have been left idling unattended.

"OK so we owed around $10,000 US right? That should be easy enough to find."

"According to this compound interest over the last 20 odd years has raised the debt to 258,972 dollars and fifteen cents."

"Frell," cursed Jazz, and meant it. He had no idea what compound interest was, but humans were devious with things like currency. He briefly pondered how selfish he had been playing prankster to Prime all those years ago. The strain of leadership was an impossible burden. If some young daring punk had tried some of the stunt Jazz pulled over the years today's Jazz would have ripped the new Autobot's arms from their sockets. And yet Optimus Prime had never once lost his temper. Primus give me strength to deal with the minutiae, was Jazz last thought before giving into a Cybetronian heavily electronic howl of exasperation which sent the bailiff scurrying for cover.

And there was the question, always the question that sat in Jazz mind that he could never ask anyone else.

What do I do now?

 

Next: Chapter 8: Swindle


	8. Swindle

Cybertron was a cold world. With no local star to speak of, there was no heat to warm the surface, but even if there had been there was no atmosphere to retain the heat. The surface was metal on vacuum, cracking in its brittleness from time to time, forming metallic beaches in places left neglected by its spark carrying custodians. There was no surface rust, no oxygen for the metal to react and oxidate with. The interior had an atmosphere of sorts, out gassing from what remained of the rock of the planet and the by product of various manufacturing processes. It was enough for fluids to exist but not much more. Not that an atmosphere was actually needed as there was nobody left on Cybertron who needed to respire.

The contrast to Earth could scarcely have been more complete. Here the local star beat down with a ferocity that belied its mid level yellow colouring. The silica powder based surface extended as far as could be determined in any direction except to the East where a weak solution of salts suspended in water filled in the gaps of topography on this very wet world. This was however one of the driest parts of this fluid covered planet. The star baked the life giving moisture out of the land, driving what life there was eastwards towards coastal areas. An average star creating average heat and radiation, perfect for the formation of organic life. While there was precious little life giving water here, there was plenty of what the freelancer needed. A fluid, not water based, but another fluid entirely, based on decayed former organic life, in its own way a life giving fluid of its own.

For the people of Earth this fluid was used to power their lifeless, soulless, sparkless imitations of metallic life. However, refined through filters and cracked around its hydrocarbon based chemical structure it was life giving fluid of another sort, and could be distilled into energon. For here in Saudi Arabia there were petrochemical hydrocarbons in abundance. And it was here that Swindle had come seeking those hydrocarbons.

Swindle was a Decepticon, more specifically a Combaticon, a small group of ruthlessly effective warriors amongst an army of soldiers. Or more precisely he had been. Now he called himself a Freelancer. That transition had caused some commotion amongst his fellow Combaticons. First there had been the silence, then the shocked questions, then threats. Their new axis of attack now appeared to attempt to be reasonable. It was hilarious and pathetic at the same time. In all the years he had known Onslaught, he knew just how out of character reasonability was.

Swindle was sick of being a Combaticon.

Swindle remembered the days of being considered a criminal within Megatron command, the days before the famine. He had been considered one of the most efficient quartermasters in the Army. That efficiency had stemmed from his less than above board methods. But while he got results nobody had seemed to care until command had developed a sense of just how much he had skimmed off the top for years. When they began to suspect, Swindle started to become the target of surveillance, but it was always clumsy. The good Decepticons were needed on the front lines and in those days prior to attaining dictatorial power, Megatron had some inventive incentive schemes to encourage capable officers into combat commands rather than become 'REDS'.

Reds was a term of derogatory slang amongst Decepticons, referring originally to the red coloured Autobrand all Autobots wore with misguided pride. But it also acquired the acronym REDS for 'Rear Echelon Defunct Slag' and was used to describe, variously any Decepticon not shooting in the direction of Autobot lines more than once a milli-vorn, generally it was levied against senior commanders who did not often visit their troops, and support troops 'who didn't know what it was like on the front line'.

Swindle had wanted a way out.

So Swindle allowed for one of his less important, and by less important, he meant his personal margin, rather than the goods, which as ammunition high command tended to think of as very important, go sour. When the deal collapsed he made sure the deal collapsed in a certain direction to the quartermaster subordinate he liked least, but made it vague enough that a bunch of Decepticons were brought in for questioning.

In his position he frequently came across the more independently minded Decepticons, those who felt less constrained by the chain of command. One such Decepticon commander had been Onslaught. Onslaught always had a few schemes going and had once a vorn back offered Swindle a position on his staff, but for Swindle that had been at the peak of his wheeling and dealing powers, and the prospect of a staff position was likely to cutback on his action.

Sitting in the holding facility while investigations ran outside, Swindle re-acquainted himself with Onslaught and his ever present bagman/bodyguard in the form of a warrior called Brawl. While griping to Onslaught he made sure the senior officer was made aware of a fewer pertinent facts about the investigation which swindle had planted very carefully days before.

Swindle knew Onslaught had been hovering on going independent for about a vorn. His command had been transferred into Starscream's sphere of influence, and as a ground based subordinate to a professional flyer who was disdainful of ground troops, Swindle knew that Onslaught had to hate his new Commander.

Onslaught then re-extended his offer to Swindle, this time, as an independent mercenary outfit, aligned to, but not necessarily supporting the Decepticons goals.

Perfect.

Swindle could now deal with who he liked for the maximum profit possible, so long as he kept Onslaught and his team fully armed, fuelled and fed then he could do what he liked. One wall of the prison dissolved in fire and a Decepticon called Vortex stepped through haze towards Onslaught and Brawl. Brawl and Vortex then killed every surviving Decepticon in the building with some help from Onslaught, who had first told Vortex of Swindle's new allegiance. Once clear of the building, Onslaught spoke to another called Blast Off via radio and the Internal Affairs building then dissolved in fire.

The next few years Swindle found Onslaught's organisation attracted quite a reputation within certain exalted Decepticon circles, as a team to contact for desperate action at a desperate fee structure, as well as for certain clandestine activities on both sides of No Bot's Land which ranged from assassination, theft, fraud or even assaults. His own combat ability leapt forward in such a manner from the influence of his new comrades that if he had ever met any of the Decepticon soldiers who had once pestered him for supplies he felt he could kill them quickly, silently and without anyone being the wiser.

With the war almost complete and the Autobots driven underground it became harder however to maintain the group. Onslaught began to loose troops back towards Shockwave. Eventually the remaining members of the group were caught and Shockwave placed the team into stasis prison.

And then Starscream had come and offered himself, Onslaught, Brawl, Vortex and Blast Off a new life as the Combaticons. Swindle had said yes because anything was better than stasis prison. But after a vorn living the life as a Combaticon, and as a pawn of Starscream, Megatron, Galvatron, Onslaught or Bruticus, he was sick of it, and yearned to return to the life of an independent trader.

Onslaught and the others would probably have let him go and pursue that life, but Bruticus would not let them. What distinguished the five Combaticons from the rank and file Decepticons was the ability to reshape themselves and merge into a single giant form. The Constructions could merge into Devastator, the Stunticons into Menasor and the Predacons into PredaKing. The Combaticons merged into Bruticus. The Autobots could perform this feat as well; Superion, Defensor and Computron had been regular opponents for Bruticus over the years. Bruticus has his own personality, influenced by, but largely separate from his five component parts. But he was an ever present reminder that he was permanently linked to Onslaught and his cronies.

Or was he?

Autobots had started to appear in human constructed frames. Perhaps here he could sever for once and for all, his link with the Decepticon military. He had made contact with the advanced research division of Chrysler who had created three frames, two of which now housed Hound and Sideswipe, while the third had been stolen, fate unknown. After briefly toying with the idea of tracking down the stolen frame, he made a deal with the human technicians for a frame of his own. With speed of the essence, a direct copy was made from an existing frame, the one now housing Hound.

So now instead of an armoured and armed military utility vehicle, a sand coloured Jeep Wrangler sat parked on the baked sand between negotiating sessions with the Arab oil Sheiks he had made contact with.

Much to Swindle's dismay he had found the new frame, while no longer recognisably his, had not rid himself of Bruticus. It appeared that Starscream's offhand creation of the brute had affected and embedded in his spark, the one part of him left his previous body. His old body he kept in vehicle mode and kept nearby at all times, in case his former partners started looking more seriously, and Swindle needed a decoy.

He had received the summons from Hound, and he saw this as a tremendous business opportunity. From what information he was able to tap into from his impressive network of military contacts, the Autobots were scattered, reduced almost to scavengers, each trying to live off the land anyway they could, much like the Decepticons of recent times. Sources of energon might not be as available as in the old days, and they might be going through filters at a rate that might exhaust supplies far too quickly. If he could provide a supply of energon without having to internally refine it from low grade fuels like petrol. Negotiations would be thorny, but Swindle was used to thorny customer relations. And this would likely be repeat business, the best kind. Swindle had transport arranged, his former Combaticon frame was already aboard, the moment the deal was sealed he was racing for Guatemala.

PAIN! Sudden pain gripped Swindle's mind, swamping it, overthrowing rational thought and making him wish he could run away from it. PAIN! It was gone as suddenly as it had arrived, a headache he guessed felt like all the humans Decepticon treachery had brought him in contact with over the last vorn, complained about regularly. Was this the new tactic of Onslaught/Bruticus to get Swindle to return to the fold? What did Onslaught need Bruticus for? The days of pitched battles with Autobot forces had ended with the disappearance of Galvatron. This is my life and I do not need them.

A cellular message was received. The ever security conscious Sheiks were keen to return to negotiations and a GPS co-ordinate had been received where again no doubt he would meet a helicopter. It was an annoying but necessary precaution. Decepticons still had a certain reputation and tended not to be intimidated by most human weapons. Composing himself, Swindle set his drive train for travel and slowly moved off in the direction indicated, feeling the grit of sand beneath his wheels.

Headaches could wait, there was profit to make.

 

Next: Chapter 9: Grimlock


	9. Grimlock

The walls seemed to glow in their antiseptic whiteness. The room was featureless. Six walls arrayed in three dimensions with only gravity to discern two from the other four. The entrance could no longer be discerned, the gap blended smoothly into the studio-like whiteness.

But here the camera operators were not pleading for a pose, for an emotion, for a flick of the hair, a pout of the mouth, an inclination of the head, and even supposing someone asked the subject would be unwilling to give it. The subject stood some 25 feet tall in roughly the centre of the room, staring motionlessly straight ahead at what he thought where the camouflaged control windows were.

The body looked like a mess of sharp angels and strangely dull silver placed panels of over an exaggerated black skeleton with some red highlights. The familiar shape of a current model Ford Mustang stuck forward underneath the subjects head while two car doors jutted away from angles to the shoulders like the world's largest shoulder pads.

An engine block sat attached to one hip, with two gun barrels incongruously jutting downwards, one each side of the block, while on the other hip sat holstered a bladeless metallic orange hilt. The head wore a flush fitting black helmet with two exaggerated ears, jutting Batman-like from each side over a blue visor and a featureless dull gold mask. The figure stood ignoring the weapons at his side.

"Come on Grimlock, we'll fire some training drones at you. I've got some new ones, they're just as likely to blow up as fight like a maddened Seeker. You always used to like them."

Grimlock used to like a lot of things. When he was Grimlock. Now the warrior's warrior had no idea what he was.

Once, Grimlock's name would strike fear into the hearts of friends and foes alike, and even Megatron would pause mid-step at the sight of the Autobot behemoth approaching. The fearsome metallic Dinosaur charging heedlessly through the lines, shredding metal with each thunderous footstep, each snap of his mighty jaw, each swing of the fire bright energo sword, was now gone. The enormous figure had been devastated in a head-to-head fight with the purple Decepticon war machine Shockwave and a fight, a slugfest that Grimlock would have enjoyed regaling his fellow Dinobots with. But the end result was the two protagonists had fought each other to a standstill, staggering, crawling, still trading blows, physically unable to retreat, with only a hatred for the emotionless cyclops to sustain him.

The epic duel had allowed Ultra Magnus to gather his forces and flee Earth for the suddenly vanished Cybertron with only Jazz and Wheeljack for company to help in a volunteers only final stand to hold the Earthbound Decepticons at bay while the vulnerable shuttle took to the skies. Jazz had seen Shockwave's cannon artillery mode forming and pointed to Grimlock. Both Autobots both knew Jazz was no match for Shockwave, so Grimlock charged down the Decepticon strategist before he could puncture the shuttles hull.

Wheeljack had hauled Grimlock's carcass away from the scene retreating to the rally point. Wheeljack had promised to take care of Grimlock, and he had known no more.

Until he woke up like this. With a car shape just like any other of Prime's Autobot weaklings. A weakling. Once he could have taken on Megatron himself. Now he was just another Autobot amongst many. He was faster now than before, but what use did Grimlock have for speed?

He could not even seek solace amongst his friends. Slag, Snarl, Sludge and Swoop had left for Cybertron with Ultra Magnus, along with his only real friend outside the Dinobots in Wheelie. While Grimlock's courageous act would be long remembered, as far as Grimlock was concerned, he might as well have been better off dead.

"Come on Grimlock," said the ever cheerful voice of Wheeljack. "If we're going to respond to Hound's call we've got to get used to these frames quickly if things turn nasty." Grimlock sighed silently to himself.

"Me Grimlock say things already nasty. This frame have less power than Wheelie. Is piece of Earth junk. Wheeljack should have given Grimlock honourable death."

"And who's going to keep the Dinobot's in line if you'd died? They need you leadership," goaded Wheeljack. After a brief pause the Engineer added, "Who's going to keep Rodimus Prime in line?"

"Me Grimlock wear same frame as friend Wheeljack. Human frame not allow Me Grimlock keep even Swoop in line. How Me Grimlock be use to Autobot with such weak frame?" At that point Wheeljack had obviously had enough and attack drones appeared from hatches in the walls and Grimlock was suddenly embroiled in battle. Drones Grimlock would have ignored as insects prior to his climactic battle two years ago, now had to be fought. Grimlock's entire fighting style and leadership abilities had grown around being one of the mightiest Autobots frames ever constructed, leading a team of similarly powerful team with their own skills, but lacking in leadership. Grimlock knew the Dinobots he commanded would no longer respect him. Other Autobots would no longer fear him. The threat of a punch in the face would no longer hold at bay the ridicule held for his simplistic syntax, despite his reputation and his battlefield skills. What does a legend do when only a shadow remains? He could not fade away while the war still raged. While he lived he still had a responsibility to the Autobrand on his shoulder. The real dilemma was then that he lived. That could be remedied.

The challenge of the drones was fleeting. Standing amongst the wreckage Grimlock could do little but think of despite the ease of the result, that this was far to difficult for an Autobot of this rank. Wheeljack was a long standing friend of the Dinobots, having championed them when even Optimus Prime was against them, maybe he could help Grimlock again in this time of need.

"Wheeljack?"

"Yeah Grimlock?"

"Can you help me end spark? Me Grimlock's life no longer important."

"I... Grimlock... you're Grimlock, the most indomitable Autobot I've ever met. This is just another challenge for you."

"Might gone. Strength gone. Tyranosaur gone. Dinobots gone. Me Grimlock wishes gone. Me Grimlock not do this to me. Wheeljack help Me Grimlock?"

"I... I can not do this Grimlock. I see a future for you. We still need you here on Earth."

"Me Grimlock not believe you friend Wheeljack. You not do this, you not friend of Me Grimlock." Wheeljack did not answer. Grimlock strode to where the entrance stood and paused. The door did not open. Grimlock pounded on the door with his fist, only to find the energy shield in place.

"Wheeljack! Open door!" Grimlock pounded away at the energy field, denting his hands, not caring about the pain. Eventually Grimlock had to stop. Collapsing to his knees, he half turned and sat, holding his damaged hands in front of his face, not caring how miserable he looked.

Primus let the pain end.

Next: Chapter 10: Windcharger


	10. Windcharger

It was a world of appearances. The right angle of how the cloth hung, revealing and yet not revealing, the right combination of colours, bold, without being garish. The right amount of breast, either the cut of the men’s jacket, or what the women chose to show. The goal posts were always moving, defined by those on the fringe, the eccentrics who designed the clothes, and those recording the scene, both the visuals in the lens of the paparazzi, and the critics, professional evaluators, representing the tabloid magazines printed by the million, sold at a bargain price, with the shots likely to be run alongside a shot taken secretly over a fence at six in the morning walking across the gardens at home.

It was sleazy, it was artificial, it was corrupting and yet alluring all the same. And oddest of all was one figure who arrived without a stitch of clothing and yet attracted no interest out of the ordinary for his station in the parade of the well or merely expensively dressed. For the moment he was one of the fringe freaks, ranked alongside the guy who played Mini-Me, the Cedric guy, the latest stand up comic, or the young soap actress taking a first step onto the silver screen. A fad personality. On the fringe of kicking on into celebrity greatness. Or to slip sideways into relative obscurity and guest shots on celebrity game shows. But for Windcharger, this was now part of what he did.

The plush of the pile of the carpet, always red, now no longer matching the black livery, was crushed beneath the impressive weight of the Autobot warrior. He stepped down the carpet, careful not to tread on any of the trailing dresses around him with his oversize angular feet, particularly that of his date. The woman, dressed semi-conservatively in a beige and ivory outfit to contrast Windcharger's newly acquired black on black bodywork, was the Autobots agent

It was quite a life Windcharger decided, hobnobbing in the American entertainment industry. Everything he had ever wanted, that could be provided for him on Earth, had been provided for him. Law enforcement looked the other way whenever he was caught speeding, or even asked for an autograph. The studio bosses loved him because he was never going to get into a sex scandal. He had been to several A-list functions. He had even once worn a tuxedo to one, but had painfully ruined it when he had subconsciously transformed while still wearing it. There was a 'gentleman’s agreement' in place with the media over his identity as an Autobot warrior, by and large it was assumed he was a costume or digitally animated with a voice actor and now he had well into shooting his first major big screen in a revival of the 80's TV series 'Knight Rider' where he had been cast to play the challenging dual roles of both KITT and KARR. It meant a black respray and a cosmetic interior and dashboard had been built and he was not able to transform on camera, but it was big screen. A big step forward for not just for him, but for all Mechanical-American actors. There would be a presenting role at the Oscars at then end of it the Autobot was sure. That meant getting another tux. He would consult with Mike Jordan where he got his made. After the surgery.

While the film was still in production however he had halted in his small screen role but would go back to it, hopefully, once principal shooting was finished. Windcharger just wished it was not so embarrassing.

Windcharger had been 'discovered' back during the pre-Unicron days. A battle with the Decepticons had spilled over into Los Angeles and Windcharger had been blazing a trail through the City of Angels with Thrust in hot pursuit when he had taken a right and dived into the studio lot of Universal Studios. Dodging fire between the huge buildings Windcharger had found one with its huge hanger like doors open and dashed inside. Thrust, struggling to keep up slowed and came into a hover over the doors. Thrust had been unique amongst the Starscream's Seekers that way.

Hidden in the shadows on the entrance way while Thrust probed the darkness of the far side of the hanger, Windcharger, standing now reached out with the magnetic waves at his command, and twisted the eneregies, finding new paths to guide the forces of magnetic flow, and ramped the power up hard and pulsed.

First one, then the other high speed vertical thrusters in Thrust's wings, suddenly stopped. The jarring halt, though momentary as Windcharger was forced to quickly release his grip as it was tremendously draining, set a shockwave up through the drive train of Thrusts internals. But that was the secondary effect.

When the right enclosed rotary thruster stopped working, the right wing dropped, aided by the still upward thrusting left thruster until it too stopped. The maroon and grey Seeker plunged quickly and dramatically out of the sky into the walls of one of the huge studios. Running from the shadows, Windcharger leapt from hiding and landed feet first into the back of the Seeker, struggling now to transform amidst the wreckage of one side of the studio building. Windcharger brought an open fist against the each side of the Seekers conical head, slipping in between the large air intakes and pulsed hard. Thrust cried out silently against the sudden scrambling effect of the magnetics and slipped into stasis lock. Windcharger paused; Minibots weren't supposed to be able to take down Seekers, but Starscream liked to appear as the great intelligent thinker of his command, so his troops rarely were bright enough to light a room. Windcharger snorted, Starscream always preferred contrast over substance.

His magnetic field generators finished recycling and he prepared to erase the contents of Thrusts brain, when he noticed a crowd had gathered from the surrounding studios. Prowl had been attempting impress on many of the Autobots the importance of a good public image, and while Prowl himself had about as much charisma as well... Soundwave, Windcharger half expected Frenzy to appear at that moment to defend his master, the message itself was remembered, and as the crowd gathered instead of killing Thrust, Windcharger turned, and posed, strong man style over the Decepticon, before spreading his arms wide and stating loudly,

"You should have seen the one that got away, it was this big!" A smattering of laughter from the crowd, an audience won over. One member of the crowd stepped forward, wearing a flashy looking suit and a loosely worn necktie.

"Is there are easy way to get in contact with you?" The man became Windcharger's first agent. It did not last long, but it did get him his first gig. When the bulk of Autobot forces, well all of them really, had suddenly disappeared without telling the working Autobot what was going, Windcharger was almost happy to let them move on and forget about them. He had found a new life, and despite the cringe inducing nature of his work, he enjoyed the attention and the underground nature of his notoriety.

After several years doing walk ons or backgrounds, a new agent, the women presently at his side on the red carpet, had got him a leading a role on television show. But there had been a catch, and it had been a biggy. He vividly remembered his first two words on set.

"...and at the back of the shed,  
behind an old bed,  
Billy had found,  
what had made the sound,  
It was Charger,  
Charger, the friendly rooooobot!" and Windcharger stepped out onto the set and shouted;

"HI KIDS!"

He had no intention heeding Hound's call. He had a date with a surgeon coming up. While his current Pontiac TransAm frame had been perfect for his dual role in 'Knight Rider' it was a very dated look. His agent had promised him more work if he took the surgical improvements offered. A Honda S2000 based human constructed frame waited for him at the end of the Knight Rider shoot.

Windcharger had a sudden wash of familiarity, of déjà vu as the humans called it perhaps. Across the road from the red carpet entrance a silver Subaru Impreza dragged at Windcharger’s attention. Could it be? Was that Camshaft?

But the shape was wrong for any Autobot he could remember. The Minibot frowned at his own nervousness and turned to stoop and walk into the entrance.

He was going to need more convincing than a vague message from Hound before he would leave all this behind.

Next: Chapter 11: Ravage


	11. Ravage

The air was filled with noise. Insects by the thousands filled the air with the noise of beating wings, and whatever noise their thorax was capable of producing. Pack animals called to each other, the occasional predatory mammal howled at the moon, and slightly more bats would add their own primitive sonic based sensory calls to the air. It all combined in a great cacophony of the late evening. Clouds raced across the sky, keeping the Moon from sight for most of the time.

Everywhere was the thick vegetation of tropical forestry. Tall trees reached skywards into the night, a triple layered canopy of vegetation, each competing for what sunlight was available while the occasional hill poked upwards reducing the size of vegetation as it did so.

The air was saturated with moisture, making even movement uncomfortable. Those who slept could. While outside, predators of all kinds lay in wait, most merely wished to fill their stomachs in order to go on living from one day to the next. One though, had more long term goals in mind.

Animals moved about their domain, foraging, hunting, killing and eating. The watcher might have felt some kind of kindred spirit with the local population, if the watcher had feelings at all. The watcher reclined prone, amongst the thick vegetation, a dark coloured figure against the darkness of the night rain forrest.

Patience was said to be a virtue. For some it was a creed, a watchword. For others it was just another tool to be employed.

The figure looked out towards a track, only accessible via truck of by utility four wheel drives. The track wound its way up one such hillsides puncturing the rain forest, towards the plateau where someone had built a dwelling of oppulent luxury. A retreat from the violence and nastiness of the highly lucrative industry its owner presided over.

Within resided the family of the target and they were surrounded by what the humans pitifully regarded as well armed guardians. The watcher had faced much tougher foes, however this was an assault that needed more than the smash and grab style of tactics once preferred by the majority of his fellow Decepticons.

But Ravage had always marched to the beat of a different drum. Ravage used to be a Casseticon. One of a group of smaller Decepticons fashioned to mate with a larger one to allow the larger to act as a force multiplier. For one Decepticon to act as five or six. What the humans referred to as a 'Swiss Army Knife'.

The Casseticons were bonded with Soundwave. There had been five of them, the humanoids, Frenzy and Rumble, the avianoids, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw, and the feliniod Ravage.

Each of them had learnt patience the hard way, folded and tucked away into Soundwave's oversized torso stacker, in a kind of womb like existence, one of peaceful security until called upon by Soundwave for an often violent purpose.

Frenzy and Rumble were aggressive and unintelligent, pack animals with some useful sonic tools, their master in miniature. Laserbeak was a coward, often reluctant to leave the sub-space cradle within Soundwave. If not for the joy he experienced in flight he would be a borderline case for a sound soldier. Laserbeak's mental state did however make him a useful interrogator. Often it was easier to threaten someone, if your actually victim believed their questioner to be unhinged. Buzzsaw was closest to himself in temperament, but tied himself more closely than Soundwave and was difficult to bond with. Not that it mattered to Ravage. Ravage was a loner, a creature of the shadows. Reconnaissance, espionage and sabotage were his stock in trade. Usually the only time the Autobots were even aware of his presence was when one of their number was a smoking ruin as Ravage fought his way free of an assignment.

Ravage had pushed his luck once too often however and had been caught attacking a facility in the North America where he had expected only lightly guarded by the Autobot theoretician Skids. Reality had been quite different and an Autobot he did not recognise had caught and smashed him in a berserker rage that Soundwave, Buzzsaw, Frenzy and Rumble had only just intervened in time to save Ravage's life.

His small body had been devastated and transfer to a new one made imperative. Soundwave had made sure his most effective fighter found his way into one of the stolen human constructed frames allowing himself to be reborn. The new frame had allowed several enhancements. Ravage now spoke with a full vocabulary, although was as economical as ever with his observations, and now had the strength to be able to take on Autobots one on one. While he no longer had access to Soundwave's audio prowess, he did have his own small army of remote sensors which could fly and place themselves in most any location and report back, creating an audio map of a location well before Ravage had to enter the location. His head though had retained its animalistic style, something Ravage appreciated, surprisingly himself by being able to appreciate the aesthetic appeal, but also because it added to the intimidation he could exert. No longer an appendage to the Decepticon communicator, Ravage was now a warrior in his own right.

But Ravage preferred the shadows, and so he stayed there. He had started taken longer term undercover assignments, and was left behind when the mass exodus occurred. Betrayed without Soundwave, Ravage made himself his own master, and now worked for anyone who had the right currency. Anyone who could provide him a return of service worth the effort.

And his unique services were in high demand.

These abilities had brought him to Colombia, away from the commercial centre of Bogota to this Villa in the hills. His client had wanted the man who lived here, did not care about the methods and was willing to meet Ravage's price. The reason why his client wanted this person mattered nothing to Ravage, except where it affected operational requirements.

A Toyota LandCruiser drove into view towards the gate to the compound, Ravage charged his rifle and started warming up his missile launchers. If he had cause to use the latter then he had failed, but still if he needed them they were not much use cold in the rack.

"Welcome back Herr Holzburger." One of Ravages audio bugs was placed near the gate and it picked up the communication from the guard sitting at the security monitor. The bugs picked up the footsteps of each of the guards and mapped their location. There were four in the compound, one on the roof, one at the gate, and two more arriving from the direction of the house escorting smaller lighter footsteps of four more. No reason the operation should not go smoothly. The Toyota progressed through the gate and started to close.

Now.

The first guard to fall was a missile armed man standing on the roof of the compound. The misileer had raised the weapon when the LandCruiser had reached the gate but it was an anti-air weapon, and pointed in the wrong direction. He was cut in half by Ravage's Plasma Cutter before he was aware of the incoming threat. Sprinting across the strip of land cleared from the side of the house Ravage stepped over the compound wall and had shot dead two guards without even looking, relying on the audio provided sensor map. The target's family had left the house to greet him in what was now a fatal mistake. Ravage swept his Fusion Gun across the group while he concentrated on picking out the remaining three guards not near the driveway. Within a minute effective opposition had been reduced to who was left in the car, and who was left in the house.

"Ssssstep out of the de car." Ravage's voice spoke Spanish, but was heavily accented. Quiet but clear in the sudden quiet after the crash of the weapons fire. The noise had killed the conversation of the animals nearby the house. The driver and two guards stepped out of the LandCruiser and Ravage shot each of them quickly. He activated a radio.

"De darget is capdured," Ravage spoke down the radio link towards his agent who was with either his client or a representative of his client. "Terminate or secure?" There was a pause. Had the client made its decision yet?

"Secure, clean up crew is arriving via helicopter. I suggest you leave prior to the helicopter recognising you. Payment will be by the usual methods. Will speak to you next week about the next contract." Ravage paused for a moment bending down to peer into the car at target who stared back with wild panicked eyes. Ravage reached in with one hand and triggered a stun charge, an exceedingly bright light and loud sound, sufficiently large to knock out the fragile human. Distant sensors picked up the distinctive wop-wop of a two bladed helicopter, most likely a Bell Huey. Ravage recalled his audio bugs.

"Secure and ready," reported Ravage. "I however, must go to Guatemala. I already have a new hunnnnt." Ravage dragged out the last word in his whisper.

"For another agent?"

"Nnnno. Thisss isss persssonal," said Ravage, pausing before responding. "Thessse are Autobotsss. I will contact you about collecting payment. If I am able." A light snapped on the front of the helicopter, searching out for its landing zone. It was time for Ravage to leave. The black form swiveled, rotated and folded. A black open top Chevrolet Corvette drove out through the still open gate and made its way slowly down the track without lights.

This promised to be quite a hunt indeed. Ravage hoped he could meet the berserker Autobot that had all but killed him. He had a very personal message for him.

Next: Chapter 12: Shockwave


	12. Shockwave

"If I told Onslaught to go to hell what makes you think I'm going to give a slick about anything you say?"

"I found you once Swindle..."

"Have you? What have you found? A radio frequency I'll never answer again? You ain't got squat. There is nothing you could do to me any worse than what Onslaught, Blast Off, Brawl and Vortex would do if they found me and you can't even find them when they aren't hiding."

"You are a Decepticon!"

"You sound more like Megatron with each sentence. I held you in higher regard than that. Do not call this frequency again Shockwave; there is nothing for you here."

"SWINDLE!" As the Combaticon promised there was indeed nothing there anymore. No matter how loud Shockwave shouted.

Physically Shockwave was a quite different figure than the purple major-domo who lead Cybertron on Megatron's behalf throughout the dark years. Shockwave had been an imposing figure, bulky and tall with a powerful laser that had replaced one hand centuries ago when Shockwave first became a Decepticon. Losing a limb to the improved armament was something he had never regretted, until now.

Two years ago Shockwave had been leading a small campaign on Earth, attempting to undermine the Autobots relationship with the American humans when Cybertron has been lost. No calls for help just disappeared. Ultra Magnus had rallied most of the Autobots together and had then departed with most of the troops to investigate the disappearance. Shockwave had seen this as an opportunity. With most Decepticons employed in deep cover espionage, he had led a very small force to strike down Ultra Magnus shuttle in the hope to kill a large group of Autobots in one blow, with the added devastation the crashing spaceship would cause on Earth.

However the Autobots had left a rear guard to protect the shuttles vulnerable launch. Very soon the other Decepticons had been beaten into a retreat except for Shockwave who was quickly embroiled in a fight with Grimlock that the Autobot refused to allow him to disengage from. The Dinobot seemed happy to exchange his life for Shockwave's if necessary and the two had traded blows until neither could stand, and then had continued to fight. Grimlock was retrieved by Wheeljack who shot Shockwave in his gun arm and upper torso so that he might escape with the broken Dinobot and then the Autobots were gone too, leaving Shockwave alone in the wreckage.

Shockwave rapidly worked though options for functionality and could find none. He was contemplating the merits of pulling his own head off when a group of humans arrived. They were scavengers, looking for remnants of the technology that allowed the Cybertronians to exist. Looking for ways to better themselves and to search fruitlessly for some method of defence from the Cybertronians whether they be visitors or invaders. Shockwave did not understand why Optimus Prime had felt sympathy for them when they had searched constantly for ways to destroy him.

Megatron had understood that the humans had a place and he knew how to speak to them, manipulate them into doing his bidding. Shockwave knew he did not have the skill to relate to them. They on the other hand seemed excited to get there hands on a living Cybertronian. Somehow Shockwave was spirited away, but he was losing touch with reality. These humans seemed desperate to keep Shockwave alive. To a point Shockwave assisted but eventually the humans ran out of time.

Until he had awoken in a new body. It seemed the humans had made more progress with Cybertronian technology than had previously thought. The body was smaller, considerably smaller. A dark blue rather than purple, aesthetics were irrelevant however. Size was an issue. No longer would he be able to physically impose himself on his fellow Decepticons. He still had his gun-arm, but it's power had reduced corresponding to his size reduction. Perhaps it was even weaker than that. The reason for having a blaster weapon built in rather than have a tactile hand now seemed pointless. He could now disguise his form as a Mazda RX8, a new feature for him. His old alt mode had done nothing to disguise who and what he was. He was going to have to re-invent himself. But how? Without even a word of thanks to the humans who had rebuilt him, he left the industrial complex in Japan and set off to re-assemble his scattered command. His efforts had been less than successful.

On Cybertron, Shockwave pushed his plans until he noticed the tide turning against him. When contingency options quickly employed failed, Shockwave had noticed other officers would then do something unorthodox. Most often failures then got worse, but occasionally a spectacular victory was salvaged. Then pride would force them to press on until losses bordered on ruinous. Or even crossed that border. Shockwave would never get that far, and would withdraw immediately rather than try something not thought out or simulated and waste the lives of his troops unnecessarily.

Shockwave knew how to organise. He knew strategy and tactics and their employment. He could analyse any battle and find the one percentage differences that altered the course for better or worse. He knew who to blame and who to admonish, and even on occasion who to acknowledge.

But he knew nothing of charisma or leadership. Shockwave had risen through the ranks of the Decepticons armies of the great wars as a planner and an efficiency expert. When Shockwave showed up at your headquarters, he was there either to inform you of his plan, or to inform you of the shortcomings of yours, and would often enforce it with the large powerful frame he had been granted at creation.

When the famine came Megatron had left Shockwave in command while he pursued the vessel he had decided illogically Optimus Prime had fled Cybertron in. There were time when Shockwave did not understand Megatron's method, but to that point it had been successful. It was only after the famine and the reunification, that Shockwave understood.

When the new Autobot Prime had taken command of Cybertron's defences from Shockwave, it was then Shockwave finally understood why he had chosen Shockwave as a second. It was not because he was the second best senior Decepticon. It was not for his efficiency, or his ability at strategy and tactics, all of which he was superior to Megatron.

It was that he had not sufficient ambition to usurp Megatron by force.

Shockwave held the position of seniority he did because he had always been given authority and he was sufficiently imposing to deter argument from those whose pride he offended. He had never reached out and grabbed it himself; he just made it obvious to superiors that to choose another Decepticon over him would be to select a Decepticon with flaws. Megatron could have built a castle out of the corpses of disappointingly flawed Decepticon officers, which in turn imbued a streak of caution in his officers that few would be willing to risk ignoring. Thus Shockwave's seniority had stemmed from the chain of command, and the repercussions of defying a trend.

Here there were no sub-commanders. No Generals, just a rag tag group of isolated Decepticons waiting to be gathered and inspired under Shockwave's command. Only they had not waited to be gathered. Swindle's reaction had been restrained compared to some. Those Decepticons still on Earth no longer wanted to unite into an army of conquerors, ready and able to bring a new vision of peace to the universe. They were either disillusioned with the Decepticon cause, or with Galvatron, or like Swindle, had developed personal agendas of their own.

Swindle had dismissed Shockwave's ability to track him down. Swindle should have known better. Shockwave had tracked the signal back to its source. Swindle had disguised it through several relays, but Shockwave found one advantage of his new human sourced frame was that it interfaced with human technology much more rapidly than his former frame electronics had. Swindles signal had been moving, not quickly, but moving nonetheless. And his co-ordinates had not been over land. If he was travelling by ocean then he had to be travelling on a human ship.

Interfacing with GPS systems and oceanographic tracking satellites, and registries for cargo ships in transit narrowed down to six possibilities which Shockwave then narrowed to one through capacity of the vessel, crew reliability for the potential to be able to smuggle something as large as a Decepticon, and by referring to recent satellite imagery. He knew where Swindle was and where and when he would dock.

Shockwave just had to get there first.

 

Next: Chapter 13: Wheeljack


	13. Wheeljack

"What can we do with him?" The man in the wheel chair was the epitome of clichéd scientist. Lab coat festooned with pockets, draped around his frame, and threatening to entangle his wheelchair. Thick glasses, thicker than the time when the two had met, Chase was still thin, without the clothes he wore he looked undernourished. His wheelchair sat on a parapet balcony with a door to an adjoining observation room, looking over the testing facility where Grimlock sat, head in his hands. Wheeljack stood alongside the balcony; his head at the level of Chase's looking through his own window at Grimlock.

"What else? Take things one step at a time Doctor Chase. His combat abilities have not diminished but his passion for it is gone, he's just going through the motions. Look at his right leg. Jerry?" Wheeljack called to someone in the control room next door, "Can you zoom in on Grimlock's right thigh? Look Chip, his energo sword has taken a deep gouge there, he's got to be feeling the pain of it, but he doesn't care an iota. All of his skill, courage and indomitability is still there, he's just buried it underneath this self-pity. We just need to walk him through this tough stage. This thing of Hound's, it may bring him around, but we can't leave until I'm sure he won't do something messy and kill a bunch of human civvies by accident."

After the tragedy that befell the Witwicky family, Chase had lost touch with Carly, and in all the years he had worked with the Autobots, he had neglected his circle of friends not involved in the great project. Now most of the Autobots were gone to. All Chase had left was his work and neglected all else to the point that he only ate when his body physically distracted him, or when Wheeljack ordered him to. Now that most of the pioneering work with the Autobot frames was done, he spent his time fine tuning. Grimlock however needed more than fine tuning.

While Grimlock's condition was the primary reason Wheeljack stayed at the Binaltech facility here in the Nevada, but he also felt a responsibility towards Chip. After Bumblebee and Spike had been killed, there had been quite a different atmosphere amongst the Autobots small circle of human friends. Bumblebee and Spike had been the charm, two best friends from completely different cultures having the time of their lives. It was a distraction from the war that became a casualty of the war that had sent Cliffjumper into a dark place within himself, had broken Carly's heart, and sent Sparkplug on a downward health spiral towards his own death of a heart attack a few years ago at his speed shop in California.

Like Jazz, Wheeljack had voluntarily undergone the transition to a human built frame. For Wheeljack it had been like tinkering with a new weapon all over again, only on himself. Plus it was felt it would help in Grimlock's rehabilitation if he had someone he could relate to with all of his friends gone. Wheeljack knew what it was like to lose friends. He had close friends aboard the Ark. The situation the Autobot exploration vessel found itself in had forced the crew together, forming some tight friendships. The happy go lucky medic Ratchet had become a good friend for the 'let's suck it and see' engineer. Losing Ratchet in the opening moments of the battle of Autobot City had been hard. Wheeljack's keen mind had also sought out the company of those similarly gifted with intelligence on the Ark. Prowl had been one. While his discipline of tactics and strategy had nothing in common with Wheeljack, the pair had used each other frequently as sounding boards, and occasionally to explore flights of fantasy within each others specialty, when Prowl could be convinced to unbend sufficiently. Wheeljack had taken great pride in being able to draw Prowl out to make him better able to relate to the troops he wrote assignments for.

Perceptor and Jetfire had been his other two friends on the Ark. The two scientists, one the gifted amateur, the other the trained professional. Jetfires undisciplined scientific method, quite at odds with his formal personality frustrated Perceptors trained methodical persona, however when Perceptors scatter brained absent mindedness let him down it frustrated the flyer. Watching the pair in action though was a joy for Wheeljack, and to add his own mad engineers’ feedback into the mix had made for some animated discussions and near heretical discoveries. Had not the Aerialbots been so keen to submit to the spark combination technology wielded by the Constructicons, Wheeljack thought Optimus Prime would have shot each of them for having backwards engineered the concept from only empirical data for evolutionary heresy. If Ironhide had had his way they would have. It took a long time for Ironhide to trust the Aerialbots.

Ratchet was dead. Prowl was dead. Jetfire had been on Cybertron with Rodimus Prime. Perceptor had left Earth on Ultra Magnus' shuttle. Jazz went off on his crusade to find the lost Autobots of Earth, and Grimlock...

Wheeljack had already been fighting despair with his usual cheery optimism, but watching Grimlock holding his head in his hands in a suicidal depression threatened to remove what hope Wheeljack had left. Wheeljack had taken great pride in the Dinobots since discovering them, and watching them turn from near psychotic menaces into not just valuable but amongst the most capable troops the Autobots could field. When the fight for Autobot City had been at its height and Devastator had broken through its defences it had been Grimlock and the Dinobots Optimus Prime had sent to take down the Gestalt. Grimlock had leapt from altitude from Prime's still descending shuttle with the Dinobots in his wake, and between them they felled Megatron's terror weapon, allowing Optimus Prime, with the Lamborghini twins in his wake to cut through Decepticon lines. Once Optimus broke through the lines to reach Megatron, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker held back the Seekers and Triple Changers for what would become Optimus and Megatron's final duel. If not for Kup's presence, the twins might have killed Hot Rod that day after the Decepticons retreated. It had nonetheless been a day of heroism like no other. Wheeljack had been proud of the Dinobots like no-one else. Once he awoke several weeks later.

Wheeljack had been an early casualty and had been unconscious for the majority of the battle with only Arcee to tend him and the other wounded until Springer had dragged her away to the conflict.

That same pride emerged again two years ago when Grimlock took on Shockwave to bring down the Decepticon sub-commander while Magnus and the others blasted their way skywards. Wheeljack had hauled what was left of Grimlock to safety. Wheeljack had been proud of what he and Chip's team had achieved with two new Ford Mustang based frames he and Grimlock now wore. The engineers and marketers from Ford thought they looked 'sexy as hell' according to one of them.

"Wheeljack, I'm extremely hesitant to release Grimlock from this facility, even in to your custody. I have to believe even with the parity between your frame and his that he could overcome you if he chose to. His becoming a threat to the general public is too much of a risk for me. And even if I agreed with you, chances are General Stewart would not."

"Hawk is not a General anymore..."

"But he still wields the influence of one, and has jurisdiction over this project and others you are not aware of."

"Chip, what do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is that I have more to think about when I deal with Autobots than how much fun being around you is." Chase voice build up to a shout. The disabled scientist paused, calming himself, before continuing. "This is not the eighties anymore Wheeljack. I have responsibilities now. I can't keep going around pretending you're the solutions to my problems and the key to keeping me young. Those days are over."

"Look we all miss Bumblebee and Spike..."

"Do NOT finish that thought Wheeljack. We have been friends and colleagues too long for you to try and start manipulating me emotionally. I have to be professional here. You can hide behind the luxury of looking out for and caring for an old friend. I have to be held accountable for what we do here. I am sorry Wheeljack. Unless Grimlock starts making immediate progress with his mental state, then there is little I can do."

"I understand."

"Do you Wheeljack? You can not come back here and bust him out. The Decepticon menace is over. None have been seen since Grimlock killed Shockwave three years ago. There is no great hour of dire need. Grimlock is a risk to the general public while he is the way he is, he needs more time to come to terms with what he has become, but he must do it here, where he can not threaten the safety of innocents." Wheeljack wanted to scream. He wanted to shout back at Chip to make him understand that price of peace was to be ever vigilant. Wheeljack took everything he wanted to say and buried it deep with his frame and said instead.

"Of course you right Doctor Chase. Grimlock needs time. Now if you'll excuse me Doctor but I have to think on how I can serve the Autobots best." Chase nodded, but said no more. Wheeljack turned and stepped into the corridor outside the Autobot sized observation room. He transformed into his Mustang GT mode and drove carefully down the corridor heading for the garage exit. The Decepticon menace had hovered over Cybertron for seven million years. It would not be over in three. Wheeljack needed time to think.

And time to plan.

 

Next: Chapter 14: Discoveries & Discussions


	14. Discoveries & Discussions

Wind whistled gently across the flat expanse of nothing. Nothing but baked hard salt flats and desert sands existed here for miles around. Most of the local wildlife hid underground during the day. So it was with the local humans. Multi-story buildings were dotted around the dusty dry and sun baked facility, although only one floor of each was visible on the surface. The Binaltech facility was built into and old military facility in Nevada. A garage door slid open and a red Honda S2000 convertible slipped out. The car was the only moving object, apart from the wind itself, for as far as the eye could see. There were no humans insight as the little Japanese sports car toured down an access road - which differentiated from the surrounding ground only by a line of rocks. The car reached the gate in the long fencline and paused while the gate openned.

Finally the Binaltech facility had released Windcharger. It had been a month since acquiring his new human shaped frame. He knew there might have been other Autobots in the facility, but in one thing both he and his agent agreed, contact with other Autobots might not be a good idea for his acting career. If it was found out he was anything other than a single being, or a costume, or something remote controlled then paranoia over just what he was would set in and work would dry up instantly. His Autobot background had been carefully suppressed. Windcharger could not have agreed more. So the 'facelift' was done with heavy pressure put on to not tell certain people within the facility. He was a celebrity after all and celebrities lived by different laws.

Although how to deal with the paparazzi had never been formalised. A silver Subaru Impreza WRX sat opposite the gate. The same one he'd seen outside the movie premiere he had attended as 'Charger', and again at odd occasions since. He badly wanted to confront this photographer with all of his Autobot might but had to restrain himself. That would be playing into the shutterbugs hands.

Windcharger pulled alongside the Subaru briefly intending to give it an aggressive engine rev before disappearing with speed it would not match.

"Windcharger, how are you?" The voice was not propagating through the air like human speech but was a specific Autobot radio frequency. Windcharger sat dumbfounded. This car had been following him for weeks. The voice was naggingly familiar, but the slowly delivered quiet syntax confused the former Minibot’s attempt to recall.

"I am sorry not to have contacted you previously," the slightly hesitant voice continued. "Seeing another Autobot after all this time... startled me. To be honest, I was not sure how to talk to another of us. I needed to speak to someone about Hound's message." The colouring finally brought recognition and again Windcharger made the same incorrect assumption he had dismissed previously.

"Camshaft?"

"Camshaft?" A world weary sigh followed. "I have not heard that name in a long time. No, my name is Silverstreak. You knew me by another name.”

"Bluestreak?" This subdued Autobot seemed nothing like the garrulous gunner he remembered of old.

"I came here you know, to this Binaltech facility." Silverstreak paused. Either he was waiting for a response or had forgotten where he was headed. "They gave me this body in Japan, but sent me here for fine tuning. Even Chip Chase came to visit. He did not look well." Windcharger snorted, despite the subdued nature of his personality, he was still as difficult as ever to pin down to a topic without racing off in all directions. He was also glad he had not tried to run. In the old days he could have beaten Bluestreak off the line but the Datsun Bluestreak used to be could run him down within a kilometre.

"Bluestreak, look I..."

"Silverstreak."

"Look whatever. I have things going on in my life now. I'm a celebrity these days. I have no need to be defender of Cybertron anymore."

"What if the Decepticons come back?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well..." Silverstreak paused as not knowing what to say. "I hear things." Another long pause.

"Like what?"

"For a while Smokescreen tried to contact me. I did not answer him. I feel shame for that. But it is done."

"What did Smokescreen say?"

"He tried to tell me about the twins."

"AND??" Windcharger almost shouted with frustration at the Subaru.

"They were fighting a Gestalt and one of them might have been killed."

"Which one?"

"I don't know. Might have been Bruticus. Think I remember hearing something..."

"Silverstreak which twin?"

"Oh I don't remember that bit either. I've been avoiding Autobots for a while. There didn't seem to be reason to do anything. So I just drove around. Nobody seemed to want to talk to me anymore so I just wandered around and looked at things. It's a nice planet when you look at it." Windcharger wondered if the old Bluestreak was trying to re-assert himself, or whether some kind of dementia was setting in. Bluestreak had been through a lot. "Megatron's death helped too."

"He didn't die," objected Windcharger.

"Did you fight against Galvatron?" Windcharger had not. He had been visiting Autobot City to see Perceptor about a niggling knee joint and ended up spending a lengthy time in Perceptor's care as the scientist suddenly had the role of medic thrust upon him because of casualties from the subsequent battle of Autobot City. "He may posses Megatron's spark but he's not the same. Galvatron is not as calculating or as intelligent as Megatron was. He is not the same threat."

“I've come to terms with who I am so there no longer seemed to be the need to justify my existence and the existence of Praxus. I think that was why I did the things I used to do. As long as I lived and as long as I still fought and as long as a spoke, then Praxus still lived on. Here nobody has heard of Praxus, and precious few of Cybertron, so I believe I've come to terms with myself now and I am content merely to wander. It is a journey I believe you need to take for you too have lost your way from the path."

"What?" The question came from out of the blue and it threw Windcharger. The meaning behind it slipped by completely.

"You need to come to terms with yourself again." Philosophy? Psychology? This was not the Bluestreak he remembered. Windcharger remembered Bluestreak had been with Kup, Hot Rod, Hound, Huffer and Daniel Witwicky and had been caught outside the City when the assault had begun but found their way inside the fortress after a confrontation with Blitzwing and the Insecticons had caused a causeway barrier to weaken. Bluestreak he turned to defend the breach in the barrier while the others worked to repair it. Blitzwing would have made it through had not Bluestreak's gunnery kept the triple-changer at bay, all the while giving a nervous inane commentary and pleading his fellows to hurry. That was the Bluestreak he remembered to last day he had seen him.

Windcharger had been nearby manning tower by a heavy duty mortar launcher with Springer and Arcee that had taken casualties already when Kup lead his team inside. Windcharger had been distracted at the wrong moment and taken a round from a Seeker to the chest and he had fallen into Arcee's arms. As he slipped into stasis lock Arcee had dragged him across to the other casualties in this makeshift sickbay, only to find the medic on hand was a casualty himself. Springer took away Arcee's angelic company at that point and Windcharger wasn't sure if he was dying or slipping into stasis but his last sight was the ruined body of another Autobot alongside his own.

"Maybe he can help you." Silverstreak's voice brought Windcharger back to the present. It had been strange meeting Bluestreak again, but he still wanted to slip his new Honda body back into Los Angeles unobtrusively. He looked back in the direction he had come and a white Ford Mustang with two thick blue stripes running along the bonnet was racing down the road towards. The former Minibot suddenly knew another Autobot was coming. Windcharger again remembered the shattered white, red and green body beside him in Autobot City which he had been convinced was dead. Yet here he was, the apprentice medic and mad inventor-engineer barrelling towards them from the Binaltech facility Windcharger had left.

"Wheeljack." Windcharger realised returning to LA might now take some time.

Next: Chapter 15: Swerve


	15. Swerve

Vision, Swerve had decided long ago, was overrated. The visual spectrum of sight covered up as much as it revealed. It was a representation easily corrupted and misinterpreted and dependant on an abundance of an undistorted light source for reliable interpretation. Swerve distrusted any form of sensory input that he could not break down and classify instinctively. As such the wall in front of him was not variations of black and dark grey from the lack of light. Swerve looked through different eyes. Strictly speaking it was not through his eyes at all.

The red and gold figure stood with his blue optics dulled, deactivated, while his hands ran across the face of the wall, probing, radiating and analysing the rock wall. Occasionally he steadied himself and touched the wall, pushing sonic waves into the material and once fired a probe from a small slot hidden in his wrist joint into a crevice to get deeper into the rock, building a three dimension map of the material and its contents. Complete, he stood back and reactivated his optics and turned towards his companion.

"This is astounding. I have never seen anything like this off Cybertron before."

"So you are sure?"

"Absolutely." Swerve stared deep into the rock face in front of him, optics glettering having been presented the prize, and an amazing prize. "No doubt at all. There is a deep and rich vien of Cybertonium running right through this rock." This was a strange turn of events, but it had been a strange day. A strange week. Hound sighed a very human sigh.

"I was afraid of that. Swerve we have troubling times ahead. If I was not sure I'd bring one down on our heads I'd take a dieties name in vain." The physical manifestation of one of the ancient dark gods had had its effect on a lot of Transformers, the figure in green to Swerve's right was one. To Swerve it had not mattered, what mattered to him was what he could see and feel.

Swerve had only arrived here on the Guatemalen Mountain top mere hours before. Swerve had taken the final step up the high mountain pass and paused. While not as well populated with tourist as Matupitu to the West, tourists still moved around the lower slopes of this hill, despite its upper reaches being closed to all but the archeological expedition that had lead Hound here.

The was air cold and dry now, changing weather patterns driving the moisture eastwards, towards the Gulf of Mexico. The chill of the previous night still hung in the still air, thinner than at sea level, imperceptibly closer to the vacuum Swerve had spent so much of his life, the gas shroud covering this planet disipating with distance from the ground. The distant star struggled to clear the horizon in the west, giving only glimpses of its potential to light and heat the surroundings. Swerve made the effort to record the image. When the war eventually returned to claim him away from this world, he would have something to take with him. Now with the image recorded, he lost interest in it. It was not why he was here.

When Swerve had gotten the message from Hound, he had been plying his abilities amongst human prospecting companies in order to keep him fueled and alive. His built-in talents put him in valuable but dangerous position. Chasing a vien down through the ground was now easier prospect for his client, but the work was gre repetitive over time. All he did was initial site surveys under the cover of drankness lest someone see the strange site of the Autobot warrior stomping around the site. Development of anything he found was handled by others and he was shuffled off to the next site.

He had been forced into such a frustrating existance some years before when he had been one of those left behind by Ultra Magnus evacuation of Earth. Initialy the Minibot had not even noticed they were gone, so focused was Swerve on securing sufficient resources to distill into energon for the Autobots of Earth.

This subterreanean enthusiasm had cost him dear over the following years. There was not always room for him to transform within the human sized mining galleries that stretched underground. One such absent minded accident had ended with him collapsing tonnes of materials onto himself leaving him pinned, buried alive beneath the surface of this Cyberogically fascinating world for over a three months. Making the decision to pull him out and not leave him there had taken two of those three months. Damage to the Minibots frame was extensive, and while his life was not threatened, he could no longer function with limbs crushed and bent beyond the ability of this planet to repair.

A brief spurt of corporate guilt had sent him to a supposedly hush-hush project a company director, who once had had an employment background within Chevrolet. They had apparently been working with a Cybertronian who had recently upgraded to a new frame and offered Swerve his previous frame. The yellow coloured Chevrolet Corvette frame he was presented with lacked only a spark chamber. Swerve had demanded changing the colour to red in a brief moment of vanity, but also remembering humans responded better to red cars when driven recklessly, as Swerve was known to do. While he missed the utility of his former Ford Pickup frame, the speed increase as a 'Vette was both welcome and fun.

Until he found out who had worn the frame previously.

It took him another month to just to deal with the mental rejection of realising he wore a body that Tracks had discarded. Once he got back on the road again he found his own driving even more reckless, almost as if he was subconsciously trying to pound all trace of Tracks out of the frame. Out of neccessity Swerve picked up the skills of a panel beater. He also had to earn a living though, so his former frame had been pillaged, the delicate sensors rebuilt into his own body, allowing him to fulfill his existing contracts and continue his life as a walking metallic divining rod.

"What can you tell me about the nuggets?" Hounds voice brought him back to the present. Hound had been puzzled by the objects when he had found them. He had every right to be.

"These are fascinating," said Swerve, taking from one of the larger Cybertronium nuggets from Hound. Using the finger of his right hand he pushed the nugget around on the open palm of his left. "The purity in this nugget is as close as I can determine to one hundred percent in the field. With some better instruments and a controlled environment I could do better with that assessment. It is certainly in the high 90s percentile." Swerve paused before looking up at Hound and delicately placing the nugget back in Hounds hand.

"It is unnatural. In the lab or with an accelerator you could make it this pure, but still as an ore? No," Swerve paused, collecting his thoughts. "It is almost like this was done. Artificially." Swerve looked over Hound's face. The Scout sighed.

"This is just half of it. Do you know the significance of this place?"

"The humans believe it to be some place of religious importance I think."

"Yeah we did that."

"We did?"

"You weren't here at the beginning. I was. Ironhide picked me to join Optimus Prime's voyage into the unknown. He believed Prime would need a good scout once we landed to help find the away across the alien terrain. You know all about the Ark's crash right? You ever wondered what happened to the Decepticons ship? All of Megatrons troops boarded the Ark before the crash, but Megatron's personal battle-cruiser Nemesis crashed as well. Before they salvaged it it was buried here in this cleft. The local Mayans at some point gained access to the Nemesis and liberated something."

There was a commotion outside the cavern in the rock. One of the humans called Hounds name. Hound excused himself and Swerve went back to examining the rock face. Swerve did not notice the first or the second time Hound called his name. He heard the third time but ignored Hound, continuing to probe the rock. The fourth time was louder and filled with curses.

A Cybertronian figure in black knealt before Hound, optics wide and darting as he looked around crazily, fearfully. Swerve had no idea who it was wearing one of the new Binaltech frames, but the head looked like...

"Sunstreaker?" As he spoke Swerve became aware that Hound had drawn his gun and pointed at the newly arrived Autobot.

"You've got to help me. He's coming. He's coming to kill me. Help me!" The voice was panicked. Only now did Swerve realise the optics were yellow, not blue. But surely not?

"Sunstreaker? What's wrong with your optics?"

"Stand back Swerve," said Hound firmly. There was anger in Hound's expression and his arms were stretched full length and elbows locked open, holding a two handed grip on his pistol. "It's not Sunstreaker. It's Dead End." The Decepticon looked up at Swerve pleadingly.

"You've got to help me. Sideswipe's coming." The figure in black dragged the last word out several syllables half choked with fear.

"Hound?" Dead End? The Stunticon? That made less sense than the Cybertronium pebbles.

"I've seen some of this," said Hound, his voice sounding colder than tundra. "Sideswipe is taking a very bloody vengeance on the Stunticons for killing Sunstreaker."

"Sunstreaker's dead?" That shocked Swerve. Sunstreaker was indestructible. He frequently told other people so. Swerve believed it. He had seen Sunstreaker in some of the larger battles from the periphery. He had been a sight to behold. An expression of military confidence only seen elsewhere in senior officers like Prowl or Ironhide.

"Sideswipe is coming here to kill him," said Hound added dispassionately. Dead End was almost vibrating. What had Sideswipe done to cause such fear in the Decepticon and disgust in Hound?

 

Next: Chapter 16: Prowl


	16. Prowl

Nothing.

Blankness.

Blackness.

Small points of white.

Many small points of white against the black.

A thump. A subdued explosion followed by a wind, briefly tugging backwards on the extremities. The star-field lurched. A distorted vision of twisted orange coloured panels swam into view at the edges and the black and the white retreated into rectangles. A voice off to the left.

“Megatron?” A query. A pause. A warning. “DECEPTICONS!” A bright burst of blue edged light and a green and yellow figure appears in view at left. The black squares rotated away to the right. A figure in red, turning to look behind swam past the vision. Blurred all blurred. A green and yellow body, and beyond a group of figures. Figures with yellow eyes and pointed arms.

Hands. He had hands. Hands suddenly filled with… with… a rifle! Point, squeeze trigger. Bright light exploded outwards and travelled away towards the grouped figures. The shot was rushed, not aimed. Figures scramble for cover. Two figures, a white one in front and a red one to the right are moving now. Lifting and pointing. One green and purple figure does not take cover and points back. The flash of light slows down. There can be no avoiding. Closer. Closer. Heat on the breastplate. Individual molecules part and dissolve before the heat. The light and the searing heat continues to move. He can feel it moving onwards. Searing heat. Explosion of painful light in the brain. Pain! Pain!

PAIN!

Heat moves onward dissipating until no more molecules can be found. Still heat. Still pain. All pain. Orange and black spins. Fire. Everywhere fire. All pain. Pain. Figures move. White figure crashes. Figures in blue and black appear. Shining metal figure appear.

“Such heroic nonsense.”

A blue white light flashes at a reddish smear. PAIN!

PAIN! Fields of orange spinning. No movement. All still. Orange fades to black. PAIN does not fade. Burning pain. Searing pain. Pain. Time. Pain.

Time.

Pain.

“Attack!” Dark coloured figures gone. Pain not gone.

No noise.

PAIN. Light fills view. Thrown back and forth. Impacts. Solid thumping everywhere. Dull pain. Legs squeezed. PAIN! Darkness. PAIN!

Red flickering. Blackness. Red. Black. Orange. Black. Yellow. Black. PAIN! BURNING PAIN! WHITE PAIN! ALL PAIN! SCREAMING PAIN!

Changing. Cold. Black. Restrained. Shove. Push. PUSH. PAIN! Feel pain. NEED PAIN! MORE PAIN.

No restraint. No pain. NEED PAIN. Door. Smash. HOWL. PAIN! NEED PAIN! FIND PAIN!

Narrow room. Run. Run. RUN! Walls closing from side. Long thing. Pick up. Heft. SMASH. Smash into leg. PAIN! YES! PAIN! Smash again. Pain not enough. Hold thing. Run. Turn. Find more PAIN!

Small thing. Black thing. Growl thing. Growl back. Two small yellow eyes. Yellow eyes cause pain.

NEED PAIN!

Chase! Black thing run. Black thing make light. Light hit. PAIN! Yes! More PAIN!

Chase! Catch black thing. Grab hold.

“Need pain. Help me. Help find pain.” Roar. No more pain. Why black thing not give pain? Hit black thing. Hit hard. Again. Hit with heavy stick. Again. Pain in hands. Yes! Hit. Hit. Hit. Hit.

Smash. Pain! SMASH!

Screams!

SMASH!

Next: Chapter 17: Skids


	17. Skids

Skids woke suddenly to the blare of alarms from hibernation. There was much rushing from the humans around. One of them dressed in black stood in front of Skids.

“The patient has escaped.”

“Dear Cybertron no.” Skids felt his spark cry out. The patient was an old friend. A dear friend, who needed help. He had been trying but Autobot was driven. A being that large and powerful could smash whole buildings. He needed proper restraint. Originally the government had wanted him killed, removed from society as a potential menace. Personal appeals from Autobots and military figures alike had saved the patient, he was well regarded.

He had escaped before. Skids remembered it vividly. Eighteen months ago. At least then he had Autobots to help. Now, matters were worse.

The Autobot patient had almost killed him in an unhinged rage. Eventually Wheeljack and Hound had arrived to help, pulling the Autobot off Skids. The white and black figure turned and laid Wheeljack on the floor. He hit Hound hard enough to put him in stasis. Then the two devilish red horns and blue eyes, crazed and pixelated, turned towards him. Stalking Skids down the hall as Skids had slid backwards on his posterior, scrambling fearfully away from the Autobot he had once looked up to as a colleague and as one of the most analytical thinkers he had met. The steel faced figure open his mouth wide and howled, charged at Skids and hit, again and again and again, with a speed and fury he had never been capable of before the crash. All Skids had felt was pain. As he slipped towards stasis two figures in yellow and red arrived behind. The twins would save him.

“Awwww frack, Prowl stop it! Leave him! It’s Skids! You remember Skids?” Sideswipe’s voice cried into the darkness as the power suddenly blacked out.

“Save it Siders. He can’t remember a thing.” Sunstreaker’s voice was strained. The tall yellow figure had Prowl pinned. “In the name of Unicron, get those restraints on frelling teachers pet.” One more howl and the white and black figure collapsed into Sunstreakers arms. The twins shook from exertion.

“He’s so strong. You wouldn’t think it,” said Sideswipe.

“Maybe it would be better to kill him,” said Sunstreaker dispassionately.

“No,” Skids heard himself whisper. “We must save him from himself.”

“Oh frak SKIDS!” Sideswipe slid on his knees to Skids side, a vision in red and white. “Hang in there man. Steaker, get Wheeljack awake now! Skids stay with me man...” and the blackness had reached out to claim Skids, dulling reality into an indeterminate blankness.

When Skids had awoken, years later, he had been Binalteched. A new frame. Larger, more powerful. Nothing like the little Honda City he once wore. The Scion people mover had made for a large chunky frame.

Originally it had been designed in the hope that if Prowl had survived, maybe the others might have as well. The hope was forlorn, no trace they had escaped anywhere was ever found. After a year of investigation of routes between Cybertron and Earth in the aftermath of the Unicron war, the search was abandoned. It was decided that they had not been thrown clear of the shuttle like Prowl had and never escaped the shuttles command deck. The burning wreckage of the crashed shuttle had consumed Brawn, Ironhide and Ratchet. The searing blaze from the burning wreckage had been left for days while the Autobot City battle had raged, burning. Prowl himself had law helpless at the edge of the conflagration, slowly being combusted by the flames. The shuttle itself partially melted the front section.

Not until Red Alert arrived from Cybertron and Inferno was released from the Infirmary three days later that anyone tried to put the intense blaze out. Retrieving Prowl was the closest to his own personal hell Inferno had ever experienced and until the day of his death had never spoken of it to anyone.

Prowl lived, but his body had betrayed him. Exposed to such torture for days on end, his pain receptors were melted; fused into the full heat of the flames and the pain from his wound. He should have died, but the wound had not been inflicted by one of the better armed Decepticons, leaving Prowl in the permanent torture of burning pain. One of the smartest Autobots, a tactician, a strategist who held Optimus Prime’s ear in all matters of warfare, had been reduced to an unthinking raging beast.

They had tried a Binaltech cure, transplanting Prowl into a new body, but the damage was two severe and too close to sensitive brain functions, and to his spark chamber. His old ruined body was discarded. He now had a new body but no built in weapons. For the last vorn, Skids had been trying to reach Prowl underneath the pain. Trying to coax the strategist out from behind the unthinking animal he had become. His first escape, eight years ago had been because skids thought he was improving and could have his restraints removed. This time there must have been a failure.

The alarms changed pitch.

“What is it?” cried Skids, transforming into the blue Scion as guards boarded the people mover, armed with power restrainers.

“Intruder alert. Prowl’s found something or someone. It will probably be dead by the time we get there.” Bursting out into the open air, Skids was greeted with rain pouring from the sky, and flames burst forth from an electrical fire in the infirmary wing. And a tall blue figure in was smashing his way into the complex, the flames leaving flickering light images along aluminium coloured thighs. Lightning cracked briefly overhead, bringing the tableau into stark relief.

“SOUNDWAVE!” cried Skids and the stopped immediately, disgorging his human cargo and climbing to his feet.

“Get back,” cried the blue Autobot. The dark figure of Rumble, easy the pick out from his venomously red highlights, was pile driving away at the building. Skids accessed the security cameras inside the prison that was a derelict part of the former Autobot City. Soundwave turned sensing Skids’ approach, raising and firing his sonic blaster in one smooth movement. Buzzsaw screeched in the air, firing as well, before turning and following Frenzy after Rumble into the hole. Finding cover of another building, Skids observed the black and white digital footage. Prowl was beating at something, using a huge stick and screaming silently, until Skids realised no sound carried with the picture. It was a dark figure, but Skids caught a glimpse of bright eyes and a long neck. Ravage!

Prowl was beating Ravage to death with a piece of metal debris. For brief seconds Skids cheered. But this would not help Prowl's state of mind. Prowl started taking laser hits from off camera. Frenzy and Rumble appeared into view on camera firing, trying to separate Prowl from his prey. Lasers were firing from somewhere else off camera, Buzzsaw presumably. Skids turned to the guard Captain.

“Captain, we must let the Decepticons leave." Skids shouted above the cacophony of the heavy rain. "They will kill us all if we get in their way. We can try and save Prowl later.” Death at Soundwave’s hands would almost have been a relief if he let the tonal Decepticon kill Prowl. But Skids was not ready yet to abandon his old friend.

Frenzy emerged from the building carrying a twisted pile of black wreckage which was once Ravage. Dumping Ravage on Soundwave, first Frenzy, then Buzzsaw retreated into Soundwaves chest. Rumble emerged at a dead run, calling his masters name, a larger figure in white and black running behind, screeching and roaring. Soundwave turned away from Skids and fired at the demonically altered figure of Prowl. Prowl took a hit and ignored it. Soundwave turned and lead with an elbow, smashing Prowls unguarded face dropping him to the deck. A fear-struck Rumble was now hidden away within Soundwave's sub-space cradle and the Communicator turned for the sky, only for the maddened Autobot the grab a foot, then with the other arm grab further up Soundwave’s right leg. Soundwave twisted in the air, struggling to bring his blaster to bear before finally several Prowls right arm with a blast. Carrying the un-transformable Ravage in his other hand, Soundwave took to the skies. Lightning flashed picking up the highlights of Prowls two helmet antenae and Prowl howled into the night like some monster from human fiction until the thunder crashed, wiping out the surreal noise from the mindless Autobot.

“Now Captain!” called Skids. The entire platoon fired their weapons. Massive jolts of current from almost twenty such weapons stunned the weakened Prowl into stasis.

Skids watched it all as damage and retrieval crews swung into action, humans treading careful on the slick metallic surface of Autobot City, designed to be stood on by foot far larger than theirs. He collapsed to his knees and sobbed, rain water running in streams down his face simulating tears the Autobot could not form no matter how he wished he could.

“Look Doctor Skids, maybe we should consider humane options.” This was the guard Captain, pausing in his duties to address the former theoretician. Skids turned swiftly towards the Captain, leaning his face in close.

“That Autobot is a magnificent being. He has fought untold years, millions of years, fighting for his planet, and then for yours. He is one of the most intelligent beings I have ever had the fortune, the honour,” Skids near shouted the last word. “…to know. You will treat him with the respect, with the dignity he deserves. I will help him to the end of my days to return him to what he once was. He deserves that much from us all.” Skids sat heavily, his vocal systems almost burned out from the emotion he had put into his words. He turned his head and stared across at the tens of humans, struggling to get Prowl into a position that he might be restrained. Lightning flashed again, bleaching the scene for brief moments in bright white light.

I will make you well again Prowl. I will see it done.

Next: Chapter 18: Liberty & Equality


	18. Liberty & Equality

"You two sure you know what I want you to do?" demanded Wheeljack. Windcharger nodded. Blue... Silverstreak, Wheeljack was still getting used to the name inclined his head in a different direction but gave no other outward indication Wheeljack had said anything.

"Rifles ready?"

"I only just finished certifying this rifle today," said Windcharger confidently. Silverstreak said nothing.

"Silverstreak?"

"Oh, sorry. I assume the weapon will work. I've never fired it myself. It was test fired back when I was brought on-line, but I've not had reason to check it."

"Can you at least tell me it's charged?" Silverstreak turned his rifle slightly to one side, and it discharged suddenly and by Silverstreak's reaction, obviously without hiss consent. The discharge of light scoured a hole in the concrete ramp by Windcharger's foot that sizzled and crackled in the sudden silence. Silverstreak turned towards Wheeljack.

"I think so."

It was all Wheeljack could do to not to cuff him. Bluestreak was supposed to be a weapons expert. This was not the Bluestreak he once knew. Windcharger seemed different too but it was harder to pin down what exactly had changed. The three Autobots had driven away from the Binaltech complex and away from the direction of Las Vegas, further out into the desert where they had transformed and Wheeljack had explained to them Grimlock's situation. At first Windcharger had been dismissive, as if the problem belonged to someone else. Silverstreak had talked positively about Grimlock finding the path to an inner peace. The pragmatic engineer did not question Silverstreak's motives while there was still a chance to sway Windcharger. When the former Minibot did change his mind, it was sudden and assertive. He cocked his head suddenly into a small gust of wind that blew across the desert floor and kept blowing. Wheeljack wanted to question them both about their attitudes, but time was of the essence.

"Wait a second," said Windcharger. "Let me say it."

"Say what?"

"Autobots," to Wheeljack's astonishment, Windcharger's voice deepened and firmed. It felt to Wheeljack like a parody. "Transform and roll-out."

Windcharger suited action to words and raced off. Silverstreak followed. Wheeljack sighed.

Catching up to the others Wheeljack found that Windcharger fought briefly with him to lead the column when they reached the gates, Wheeljack turned into the drive. As a member of staff, Wheeljack had an electronic transmitter to broadcast a preset frequency at the gate which raised it. Windcharger and Silverstreak were stuck on the driveway.

"Can you buzz my friend Windcharger here back in?" Wheeljack started talking to a microphone mounted outside of the automated guard’s box. "He needs some additional adjustments."

"No. Not this way," said Windcharger. "Silverstreak, follow my lead." Windcharger transformed and stood, striding over the fence with a touch of difficulty. Silverstreak did his best to duplicate the manouver.

"What the frell...” Wheeljack started.

"Autobots, with me," said Windcharger, brandishing his long barrelled rifle like a human action hero. Realisation hit Wheeljack with that observation. The Honda was acting! Wheeljack had been all too aware of Windcharger's rising celebrity profile and had thought it cute at the time. He didn't now. All pretense at cover blown, Wheeljack transformed and stood himself and ran after the others.

The trio reached cover at the first building and looking briefly to the right to give watchers something to look at; Wheeljack strode back to the left side of the building and thrust his right forearm into Windcharger's throat. The engineer brought his deactivated Energo sword up to Windcharger's head and said softly but clearly.

"Hollywood action hero stops NOW! Stick to the plan and follow MY lead. I know this place and where to go right?" Threat made Wheeljack let go of the former Minibot and ran around to the left leaving Windcharger giving reassurances to his and Silverstreak's back. Security was appearing now and Wheeljack set up some suppressing fire as they fired their weapons at the three Autobots. Transforming Wheeljack raced for the garage entry to the testing facility, white Ford leading the silver Subaru and the red Honda in a race car chain of high speed metal, racing through the gaps in the buildings, outpacing the guard’s fire.

Reaching the garage, Wheeljack expertly tossed his Mustang body into a power slide the drifted precisely at the opening, leaving him perfectly aligned to run straight into the garage door, which was opening upwards at Wheeljack’s request. The Mustang bellowed inside, it’s ersatz V8 noise echoing in the tight confines of the entry tunnel. The silver Subaru behind turned the corner with less flamboyance and considerably greater surefootedness. Windcharger he could not see.

Using his pass frequency to clear the doors ahead Wheeljack raced into the underground corridors, he left his engine in a higher gear than necessary, letting his pseudo-engine run on higher and louder revolutions to warn those ahead to not access the 'Autobot Corridor'.

Reaching the test room with no opposition, Wheeljack drove in while Silverstreak stood up and stood guard, crouching on his knees against the low ceiling cradling his unfamiliar rifle. Windcharger followed Wheeljack into the room only to be ordered back outside by an angry Wheeljack.

The lights were out in the test room for the first time Wheeljack could remember. The control room was unlit and empty. Puzzled Wheeljack wondered over and looked through the window briefly, before turning towards the door. He opened it to find Grimlock on his feet ready to greet Wheeljack. His weapons however were holstered.

"This is a prison break Grimlock. Come on we're leaving."

"Wheeled human say he want talk you," said Grimlock.

"We'll talk to Chip later, come on Grimlcok." Wheeljack belatedly realised the import of Grimlock's words and froze mid-gesture.

"I must say I'm disappointed Wheeljack. It wasn't the shooting at my men, I half expected that day would come that Grimlock might break free himself and they were well trained on what to expect. It's the betrayal of trust that upsets me." Chip Chase's voice echoed down from his usual observation platform vantage point. Wheeljack had not looked. He simply hadn't expected the scientist to be here.

"I'm sorry Chip."

"So am I Wheeljack,” the crippled scientist paused, as if mentally gathering himself. “We had just decided to release Grimlock into your custody." Silverstreak stuck his head around the doorway.

"Greetings Chip," said Silverstreak happily.

"Hello Silverstreak. You are well?" There was no happiness in Chip's voice.

"Yes I am thank you Chip. I hope I find you in a similar state?"

"We can discuss that later Silverstreak. Come in, and bring Windcharger too. You all should see this."

"What's happened Chip?" Wheeljack's fire was still up. Aggression still burned in his frame and the unknowns kept his brain firing as he mentally flipped through scenarios.

"We have all been overtaken by events sadly. I am sorry I did not pay closer attention to your warnings Wheeljack. I just you had treated me with more respect." Chase held up a remote control and activated the Autobot sized projector and a television new channel, Wheeljack recognised the corner watermark, snapped into focus. The anchor was speaking. Underneath the watermark was an image of an explosion. Sound echoed around the tight confines of the large room, crowded as it was with four Autobots. Wheeljack's energy left him as the potential seriousness slammed home.

"We now cross to our on-the-scene report and joining us is Helena Michaelis, can you bring us up to date with what is happening at the scene of this dreadful incident..."

 

Next: Chapter 19: Decepticharge


	19. Decepticharge

The early morning sunlight pushed its way through whatever gaps it could find in the inner city skyline, rebounding off steel and aluminium, once bright, now dulled after years of sunrises. The glint of mirror backed glass, refracted, discoloured, distorted. Tinting the inside, insulating the interior against the heat and radiation of the rays sent from the distant star.

Humans liked it that way. Somehow they preferred their environment softened. Shifted from reality into a comfort zone which made it easier for them to operate. These office working battery animals would never know what it was like to bask in the vastness of space. They would never stand on some far flung moon gazing at a Supernova without the filter of an atmosphere. They would never believe in anything other than a metaphysical afterlife free of insecurities. They would huddle together on their mass transit systems going to and from jobs that seemed to consist of moving paperwork from one side of a desk to another, before returning to their climate controlled residences and hide from the word with just the pleasures of the flesh and the artificial entertainments of the airwaves, and the overwhelming concept of the 18 year education cycle for newly templated humans. Insurance, immigration, traffic infringements, superannuation, sport, all of these concepts slipped right by this observer as concepts not understood. This did not mean there were no humans he could relate to. A human sat aboard his transformed alt mode, a burnished metallic Honda S2000.

He was a Decepticon warrior, and his name was Decepticharge.

"Truly you are a divine weapon."

"Divinity would have little to do with what we do today." Decepticharge, despite everything that had happened to him, he still retained strong memories of when his 'God' had walked up and torn megaton fistfulls of Cybertron and flung it at individual incoming Seekers who were merely defending their fellows. That had been the greatest act of overkill he had ever seen. Next to that, someone referring to any kind of diety appeared fanciful.

"You provide abilities beyond the means of even the vaunted Americans."

"I had thought technology was one of your reasons to dislike these unbelievers."

"Their vision of technology is just a tool they employ to suppress us." Decepticharge left the discussion at that point. Providing any opinion contrary to the humans belief system was only likely to antagonise it and he doubted he could explain Unicron to this one. This was not the place and definitely not the time for a theological discussion.

Decepticharge was parked in a 24 hour car park, two levels above ground floor and presently, the Decepticon and his human companion were overlooking another of the steel and glass monstrosities that represented the societies both fought against.

The weapon was in place, the test signal had been confirmed all that awaited was the target. It was still early morning and only the most diligent workers had arrived thus far. The subsidiary target was a diligent worker though.

"He comes," said the human. Decepticharge knew his companion only as Esteban, a name which the Decepticon was fairly sure was false. This new human, whom Esteban had picked out of the many milling about at ground level, Decepticharge knew well or more precisely knew of. The target walked confidently with a very erect carriage, with closely cropped grey-white hair, a thin craggy face which had borne out many years of strange environments and squinting into setting suns. Thin, but still carrying a vibrancy in his frame despite his advancing years, he looked every inch the man he was, a professional soldier. Today he wore a grey three piece suit over business shirt and tie. He did not swagger but merely strode confidently, the master of his space. Today Decepticharge would teach him a final lesson of humility.

Former US Army General Perkele A. "Hawk" Stewart had headed up the human military establishment which had allowed the Autobots to establish a foothold within the culture of this planet, an advantage permanently closed to the Decepticons who had then been forced to only work with the dregs of what this planet could argueably refer to as intelligent natives. Maddened cyborg scientists, enraged cybernetic crusaders, over greedy mineral tycoons and corrupt politicians. And pretend soldiers calling themselves freedom fighters. Esteban was one of the latter. Decepticharge however cared little for the descriptions humans gave themselves.

Stewart's quasi-military unit now existed without him and Stewart, because of internal politics as much as anything, his SIU organisation had trodden on too many toes within the Army, he never gained another promotion, thus his SIU leadership was his last command. Once forcibly retired, a pro-active recruiter from Central Iintelligence had employed him and the career Army bachelor went to work as a 'spook' specialising in the Cybertronians and went to work in the specially constructed sub-basement level of an otherwise ordinary outer CBD office block which was filled with financial advisors, engineering consultancies and PR agencies. The CIA wanted to keep knowledge of the Cybertronians as restricted from other channels as possible. An Agency in disguise, a building more then met these optical sensors.

Years ago however, Soundwave had compromised the CIA, back in the days prior to the SIU bolstering the CIA's defences against Soviet advances and against first instances of what the Cybertronians were predicted to be capable of. Soundwave's bugs kept updating themselves and even with Soundwave off-world, continued to send out information, if you had the access codes.

Stewart stepped off the street and into the buildings foyer. Postponement was now a closed option. Because of whom he was, or more precisely who he had been, Stewart's life was forfeit. Because Decepticharge needed to send a message with it, the life of everyone in the building was equally forfeit.

In recent years the humans had become complacent about the Decepticons who were coming to enslave this world. They needed reminding of the new world order to come. And those Decepticons left on Earth badly needed a rallying cry. Decepticharge had been aware Shockwave had been trying to gather the Decepticons to him with his usual gracelessness. Shockwave was not a leader, but an authoritarian, useless without his own support structure to reinforce his commands. Properly directed however Shockwave still knew how to wield authority and the others would recognise his rank and given an example would quickly return to the fold. Promise them death, destruction and power and they would flock back to the banner. Today would be the first step.

Last night dressed as a cleaner, Esteban had gotten access to the building and placed first an explosive device, several devices, at key points around the building, and then he had taken the lift and found access to the roof where he had placed something else. They had waited long enough for Stewart to move beyond the foyer. It was time. Decepticharge felt no need to inform Esteban; he just sent the radio signal.

A great rumble was heard throughout the area and the ground moved under the feet of the pedestrians, sending them tumbling to the pavement. A great billowing dust cloud emerged from the front doors under pressure and dust covered figures started to emerge from the foyer. The building continued the shudder and move. Panic set in amongst the pedestrians, vivid memories of falling concrete... of a local yet national horror... sending them running away from the building. Many looked skyward, falsely speculating over the original of the unfolding tragedy.

The collapse, when it came, was cleaner than Decepticharge expected. The moment the first basement floor failed the weight of the building above came down upon it. At that point complete structural failure was complete and the building collapsed in upon itself, imploding as much as exploding, providing a stunning visual image for those observing. Once upon a time the demolition of multi-story building had been looked upon as a novelty with which to end news breaks on as Las Vegas levelled a casino to make way for a new one even more extravagant than the previous. The American psyche had been scarred by its darkest day. Just any reminder triggered off emotions. It made for the perfect psychological weapon.

One of the enduring images of that day was the sheets of office paper falling from the sky. Esteban had the previous night, placed on each corner of the buildings roof two reams of A4. In the centre of each page was the Decepitcon brand. A terrifying symbol in pseudo-polished metal, etched in a purple outline that faded into the stark white of the paper. Four thousand reminders that the Decepticons still existed and still had potency.

With panic well and truly set in Decepticharge backed up quickly and raced for the exit of the car park. Soon hundreds of office workers would race to do the same, to save their cars from another collapse. No-one would think anything of the silver Hondas sudden speeding away from the car park, and from the CBD, after all many others were doing so already. After dropping off Esteban at his safe house, Decepticharge opened a long disused radio frequency.

"Shockwave respond."

"Yes." The reply was firm and immediate. Good.

"This is Decepticharge, I have sent forth a rallying cry to our people. The humans will once again tremble at our name, and Autobots will cease their personal journeys of discovery and treat us with the respect we deserve. Scour the news channels over the next few hours and you will see that it is true."

"Go on."

"I know the Autobots are gathering once more. I know where they are gathering. We should go there and greet them in the manner customary, and befitting our absence from their sphere."

"Tell me what you know." Decepticharge grinned to himself. He had Shockwave now. It had begun.

Next Chapter 20: Diagnosis & Compromise


	20. Diagnosis & Compromise

"Is he improving?"

"It is so hard to tell. The problem appears now to be as much psychological as physiological. The transfer of Prowl's braincase and spark chamber to the Binaltech frame cured the chest wound and his other, extensive injuries, but his higher functions remain impaired."

Skids looked hard at Jazz. He knew Jazz and Prowl had had a long association together. The pair had made a formidable combination; one provided the tactical daring, the other the strategic planning as Optimus Prime's tactical operations department during the final years of Optimus' life. Jazz had lost more friends than most during the Terran and Unicron Wars which had occurred in such a short space of time. If Wheeljack had not survived he wondered whether he would be treating Jazz at this facility rather than Prowl. As it was those experiences, and the subsequent years he had spent in outer rim skirmishes as a unit commander had burnt away his flamboyance and given him a caution which was now seriously affecting his decision-making ability. Skids vividly remembered the Jazz he met when the theoretician had been assigned as part of Perceptor and Roadbuster's reinforcement team and had found him a brilliant lateral thinker. Jazz now appeared to find command too restrictive for his talents and he found Jazz focussing on small objects and ignoring the big picture. Jazz had been running all over the world trying to contact Autobots individually instead of using the force of his personality to get everyone to come to him.

Skids wished he could do more for his Commander, but he could not unless Jazz specifically sought him out, and it now appeared other factors had come into play. The bombing incident in Arlington had brought to a head something Jazz had been doing his best to ignore. Jazz had been trapped in Australia's unnecessarily complicated emigration system when the Decepticons had suddenly and violently re-emerged onto the world stage. The US military had reacted with customary speed under pressure and Jazz had been quickly brought to the US on specially chartered Royal Australian Air Force transport. After a briefing with the US forces, Jazz had been given the resources he had been previously denied in trying to assemble the scattered Autobots of Earth. That had brought him to the Colorado ruins of Autobot City of which had been made partially habitable again.

The ruined City had been left as it after Ultra Magnus first evacuation of Earth. While Ultra Magnus raced off to face Galvatron, Unicron and a new Prime; Blaster was ordered by Perceptor to take command of the many wounded in the infirmary. The lightly wounded Bluestreak and Huffer had helped get Wheeljack, Windcharger, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Grapple and Hound, but with Ratchet missing, First Aid somewhere on Cybertron with the rest of the Protectobots and Wheeljack wounded, Skids was nominated as medic because he had been a member of the Autobot Science Corps. Skids was more at home sitting in front of a terminal then attempting surgery recently learnt from downloaded emergency manuals, but he had done his best and had stayed by his patients as they one by one recovered, until one remained. But where did the answer lie? Where was the theory to cure Prowl? What set of numbers and constants in combination could find their way to returning the quiet voiced strategist to the living and the company of his fellows?

"We share so much with these humans. They have developed an entire study dedicated to the care and well being of the mind. It is an extremely inexact science, which has resisted my attempts to analyse however. It seems that, like these humans, Prowl may get sudden better tomorrow, next week, next year, next century or he may stay this way forever. His neural pathways have been scorched internally, and that is something which he can repair himself, or cope with the damage. To try and repair this damage ourselves we be to risk ending his higher brain functions permanently and if you replace the parts, then we are forced to replace large sections of his personality. So much of our health is compartmentalised. We can loose a limb and it is just an annoyance till we get it repaired or replaced. Humans need time to heal. Prowl's injury is very human in nature." There was a long pause as Jazz absorbed Skids diagnosis, such that it was.

"We can't leave him here can we?" asked Jazz eventually.

"The humans have offered several times to euthanase Prowl. While it is against their laws to do this to their own kind it appears they would have no such qualms with those not of their kind, and they also seem to find the cost of maintaining Prowl to be many times higher than the potential reward for his recovery. Many humans still view us as automata, no better than welding robots or childrens toys. Support for Prowl's continued welfare is diminishing."

"I will not see Prowl reduced to a cost/benefit allowance," Jazz paused again. "Is there any way we can take him with us, in a manner such that he is not a threat to others?" Skids looked up sharply. Surely Jazz would not have so little respect for his friend.

"What? Jazz are you suggesting we sedate him and haul him around like a spare tyre?"

"Skids, I need every Autobot I can find. If that is what it takes to free you up then so be it."

"But you don't even know where the Decepticons are. If you don't have a destination why are you rounding everyone up?" Jazz head snapped around and his gaze barrelled in on Skids, his two eyes visible and blazing beneath the wrap around visor.

"Because Ultra Magnus gave me command of this post. Since I've taken command, 'bots have disappeared left and right, off playing with racing cars, digging holes, looking at old human buildings, filming entertainment vids, and getting killed taking on missions too big for them. It stops now. The responsibility is mine and you're all supposed to respect the chain of command. Look at us, Decepticons are attacking humans and I only know where two of my troops are and one of those is less use than a cardboard mock-up of Optimus!"

Skids was taken aback by the fury of Jazz' outburst so much so that he took a step backwards, retreating from his glare and the anger Jazz projected. Skids had underestimated both how much self-imposed pressure Jazz had placed on himself, and by how badly the Decepticon attack had upset him.

"Jazz, the bombing was not your fault. Even with a cohesive force like we had ten years ago we could not have stopped it." Skids cursed himself the moment he said it. He knew how Jazz would take it.

"As opposed to the force I've arrayed now?"

"You know what I meant Jazz. Some attacks will always catch you unawares. How much freedom will you strip away in the name of security? What part of who you... who we are will you compromise out of fear?"

"Optimus Prime gave the leaders of this planet a commitment to defend them against Decepticon aggression," answered Jazz obliquely. "Rodmius Prime and Ultra Magnus both re-affirmed that commitment, and that commitment is now mine. The buck stops with me. I've made contact with Wheeljack and he's found Bluestreak and Windcharger and Grimlock is mobile now as well. We have had no further contact from Hound and that concerns me. Others are on their way too. We find Tracks and Smokescreen, and then we head south."

Jazz paused, and looked once more at the monitor of the restrained Prowl, conscious and struggling against his bonds. When he continued his voice was softer but no less firm.

"And Prowl comes with us."

Next: Chapter 21: Excursions & Excommunication


	21. Excursions & Excommunication

Dust. Everywhere there was dust. Dust covered every elevated surface and large areas of the floor. Dust of disuse. The dust of a place left behind while time marched on elsewhere.

The air was musty and laden with what disturbed dust that had yet to find a new surface after having been disturbed by the arrival of the rooms sole occupant.

A walls shrank close in the tight confines of the room. Concrete under foot, plasterboard wall to the left in contemporary western style, local uneven clay brick walls in front and to the right, low human height ceiling, and a hinged galvanised tin wall behind. The only light came from the gaps around the poorly fitting hinged wall. The room was roughly square with one door on the left side, and the walls were lined with tools of varying kinds, all shaped to fit human hands. Some would have made excellent human-sized weapons, Decepticharge judged.

The humans gave names to many of their discoveries of the physical world, calling them laws or theories and giving them grandiose titles, giving the 'discoverer' the ego boost of a small slice of immortality, instead of accepting them as a truth or a boundary and moving on. Decepticharge lingered for the moment on the 'Second Law of Thermodynamics', which, once stripped of the longer words, basically states 'entropy increases'. If dust could be used as a representation of the 'Second Law of Thermodynamics', then this 'garage' was a graphic representation of this 'Law' in action.

Sounds filtered through from outside; the sounds of smaller flying animals in the well vegetated surrounds outside, and the sounds of the passing vehicles the Transformers of Earth imitated.

The garage sat next to a house in hills of the outer suburbs of Vera Cruz, Guatemala's major Atlantic Ocean port. Decepticharge had come here at Shockwave's suggestion for a rendezvous as Shockwave was coming here anyway. Decepticharge's contacts had provided a disused safe house, long disused as it turned out. Now the potential King-maker awaited his pawn.

Shockwave had told him why he was coming here. A piece of intelligence had been gained about the location of Swindle and Decepticharge was interested to check out this information. He, however, remembered Swindle of old and thought he would be considerably more devious than Shockwave had already allowed for. Layers upon layers, traps within traps. As such, Decepticharge was spending most of his time watching the tedious process of unloading a human cargo sea vessel via a vid camera that had been placed on a neighbouring container crane, which had 'broken down' the day before.

One of the passing vehicles altered sound and dropped down through the audio range. When Decepticharge sensed the vehicle was pulling into the driveway behind, he activated a remote frequency. A small spotlight mounted on a black box on the ceiling activate, throwing the garage's interior into a sudden sharp focus, which dulled as the tin wall hinged upward at the ceiling, allowing light from the day outside to spill, then flood into the room. A dark metallic blue Mazda RX8 was backing up slightly to allow the wall to continue to arc upwards before moving forward into the vacant area of garage to the right of Decepticharge's Honda S2000. The ersatz rotary engine rasp died suddenly as the wall hinged back downwards again, returning the room to its former gloom.

"I greet you Shockwave."

"You are Decepticharge. I have no record of you ever being in my command."

"Yet I know you well. I am a Decepticon and I can provide the means of uniting the Decepticons of Earth once more."

"What is the extent of your plan? I wish to review it." This was typical Shockwave, always believing that his abilities and intellect were superior, and with a complete blind spot to his own failings. It was different, thought Decepticharge, to have that monocular gaze directed at him, instead of those around him, even though both Decepticons sat in the garage in their vehicular alt modes. His reputation certainly had an effect, despite Decepticharge being aware of its limitations.

"There are those Decepticons who, believing the war for them is over, have attempted to integrate themselves. The destruction of the building in Arlington served a double purpose. For those Decepticons that are lost but still believers it will give them a rallying cry to let them know command has not forgotten them. For those who have tried to forget their pasts, this will be a reminder to the humans they try to associate with of what Decepticons are capable of, even likely to do. Humans will learn to fear and mistrust our brand again and any dealings with disenchanted Decepticons will fold thus forcing those Decepticons to return."

"A sound long range strategy. Short range is however also required. Which is why we are here. Recruitment opportunities increase when occurring through face-to-face communication."

Shockwave had linked in to the camera feed Decepticharge was viewing, and just at that moment a container on the dock was opened and a light brown armoured scout vehicle rolled forward from the entrance of the container. Decepticharge recognised the alt mode instantly.

Swindle.

It appeared however that someone else had recognised the vehicle. A blue Subaru with strange markings had been sitting at the end of the dock all morning, part of large consignment of largely blue coloured boxes being regimented by blue uniformed humans, and started rolling forward with increasing rapidity.

Rolling along the side of a waterfront warehouse, the blue car continued to approach the apparently dormant Decepticon.

"Shockwave is this part of your plan?" Shockwave did not respond to Decepticharge's question. Suddenly the blue car changed. The rear of the car extended, split and rotated along its axis, a pair of feet and legs emerging and getting underneath the rest of the vehicle, while the underside of the car folded in two forming a torso and a blue helmeted head with a pair of bright golden horns emerged from the top of the bonnet and a pair of arms emerged from underneath. On the one shoulder visible from the camera angle was a very familiar metallic red symbol. Autobot!

Decepticharge cursed to himself. There had been an opportunity to bring Swindle directly into the coming operation, and assumed this had been Shockwave's intent. Now legs akimbo and rifle outstretched, the unfamiliar Autobot had taken Swindle unawares. Swindle made no attempt to transform, or even move.

"Observation indicates with 53% reliability that the Autobot is Smokescreen." Decepticharge did not challenge Shockwave's assessment, and settled back to await developments. The rear tin wall started to hinge upwards at Decepticharge's command. Decepticharge decided they could observe while getting closer to the action and suggested this to Shockwave who concurred, when Smokescreen's posture changed and he stood up straight with hands held high. He bent and carefully laid his rifle on the ground before stepping backwards out of sight into the shadows of the warehouse beyond. After a couple of minutes a black hand stretched out of the shadows and retrieved the rifle. Swindle continued to sit outside the warehouse, seemingly unaware of what had just gone on. What could this mean?

Without further comment Decepticharge backed up the driveway and rolled down the street towards the inner city and the wharves beyond with the dark blue Mazda RX8 in pursuit.

Pulling out of the shadows of trees opposite the safe house was a black Chevrolet Corvette. The 'Vette moved slowly off down the street, holding a watching brief over the two small Japanese sports cars ahead.

Next: Chapter 22: Arrivals & Enquiries


	22. Arrivals & Enquiries

Harbour is always distinct. Whether it was the giant port facilities that hung above Cybertron during more peacable times to this sea port on Earth. The air was filled with rich smells and noises. From the tang of salt in the air from the pounding of the ocean, the pungent scent of diesels fuels that powered both the ships and the methods of their unloading from the smallest forklifts to the largest cranes. The rattling and rumbling of the various diesel engines, and the whine of electric motors, to the more musical twittering and squawking of seabirds, looking for the cast off burley from the fishing fleet nearby. Horns, whistles and sirens each contributed to the pollution of the air, each making their own coded warning that the humans that inhabited the docking facility reacted to instinctively after years of practice. But not all the humans knew what each noise meant.

A group of humans in blue uniforms wearing white shirts, splattered with golden or yellow insignia, moved amongst the crates, moving with precision, unloading and repacking the contents of the contains, supervising the stevedores as the Subaru World Rally Team got ready to make their way inland and north. One of the Prodrive managers who ran the team stepped over to the blue rally car still remaining on the dock.

"You are sure about this?" asked the Rally Manager, apparently talking to nobody.

"Yes Nicholas I am sure." The voice emerged from the blue Subaru Impreza rally car. Smokescreen had arrived in Central America and now was on his way to the highlands. "I am not human after all. I share a stronger bond with my Autobot friends than I can with humans. It is the equivalent of a family for me."

"You know you will always be welcome back at Prodrive."

"Thank you Nicholas, your support has been invaluable; I hope David is not too annoyed."

"I think he thought this day would be inevitable. Petter and Phil would want to say thank you. We could not have won the title without you." Smokescreen had nothing to add. Nicholas walked away to take a firmer role in getting the convoy underway.

After the fury of the storm, port was as pleasant an aftermath as Smokescreen had ever experienced. His slumber had been fitful since the message from Hound. He had been trying to re-establish contact with his fellow Autobots for some time, but the only one he could find with any regularity over the airwaves was Bluestreak, and he was strangely unresponsive to his entreaties. Bluestreak remained quiet, as did Hound who he found unable to get an answer from.

A container in front and to Smokescreen's left was cracked open. A tan coloured vehicle rolled out from within. It was not a typical Earth production vehicle. Wary about such things, Smokescreen started trundling forwards, disengaging the rhythmic throbbing noise his Earth engine noise simulator made. The container sat further back along the dock, towards the shore where an old warehouse took up two/thirds the width of this jetty. As he got closer the vehicle looked more like an assault vehicle. Recognition was sudden and shocking.

SWINDLE!

Before Smokescreen was consciously aware that he was too close to take on one of the skilful Combaticons, even the physically smallest of the five, he had transformed and stood, filling his right fist with his rifle and bring his left hand up in a firm two handed grip. Work stopped suddenly in the background as those humans not working for Prodrive, even the ones who did, stopped to look at this astonishing vision.

"Swindle! Surrender immediately or I'll blow a hole through you." The armoured vehicle did not respond. "Swindle you Decepticon scum, answer me!"

Swindle continued to not move a micron. Smokescreen edged closer, moving across a large open doorway in the warehouse. It was Swindle all right he could pick out the Decepticon brand on his...

"That's far enough Autobot." The voice was behind him. Something metallic bumped against the back of his head. "Lay your rifle down on the floor to your right then back up five paces with your hands in the air." Slowly Smokescreen did as he was bid. A sand coloured Cybetronian frame walked into holding a wide berth and keep Smokescreen under the gun of a small pistol. Or was it a Cybertronian frame? The colouring matched Swindle although the voice sounded more like Trailbreaker than Swindle.

"Swindle?"

"Yeah."

"How did you get your hands on a Binaltech frame?"

"Never you mind, my Autobot friend."

"That frame was probably intended to save the life of some poor Autobot you Decepticon scum."

"Who said I was a Decepticon? I don't have to be do I?"

"That brand suggests to me otherwise Swindle."

"Have you ever tried removing yours?

"I've never had reason to doubt mine." Swindle paused after the rebuke. When he did reply it was more measured.

"Don't you find it interesting how easily we slip into old patterns? Like millennia of combat we've been conditioned. Are you finding that conditioning breaking down at all?" This was a question that Smokescreen was now finding rather uncomfortable. It was true his own physical condition had deteriorated since becoming isolated from Cybertron and the chain of command. He now wondered if his mental condition had similarly swayed.

Then he caught himself. An expert in diversionary tactics, he had been caught out badly by the Combaticon, firstly in being decoyed by his pre-Binaltech form, and now was being 'led up the garden path' as the humans say by the talkative 'Con. Smokescreen re-composed his face into an expressionless mask and stared at the sand and black coloured figure.

"Get to the point Swindle."

"Look, ummm... Skids?"

"Smokescreen."

"Smokescreen, do you remember the pre-Earth war days well? You remember Onslaught's army had once been independent of alignment? Well I'm reverting to those times. I'm an independent trader with a product. And it's a product you want." With that Swindle holstered his own pistol and reversed Smokescreen's rifle he had picked up, and held it out to Smokescreen, butt first. Smokescreen hefted his rifle, then laid it to one side and sat.

"OK, I'm listening."

"How are you guys off for energon?" Smokescreen made a small noise of astonishment.

"You seriously don't expect me to answer that?"

"I guess not," conceded Swindle. "We've both had intelligence training at some point; you can't blame me for trying."

Smokescreen maintained the stonewall mask. Empathising with this Decepticon would be handing him an advantage.

"I've been talking with some Sheiks who have been very interested in the concept of energon. I'm presuming with so few Autobots on Earth I'm betting the old infrastructure isn't being maintained like it was. I'm sure you're going through filters at a rate that surprises you and recycling them is reducing your overall efficiency." Swindle paused for an acknowledgement. Smokescreen made a circular motion with his unoccupied left hand that he had seen humans use. Swindle appeared to under stand the gesture.

"What would you say, if I could provide refined energon that you didn't have to purge through already over used filters?"

"The catch?"

"Remuneration of course. The amount and form of the currency would have to be decided by others of course and would vary on your capacity to pay."

"You would be making this same offer to the Decepticons? Less? More?" For the first time Smokescreen noticed something other than an air of cheeky nonchalance in the Decepticon.

"What I offer the Decepticons is of no consequence to you or of any bearing to our negotiations." The flash of anger was gone as quickly as it arrived, and briefly the look on Swindle's visored face betrayed the look that he knew he had given away something he should not have. "Well played Autobot," he added, just to show that they both knew what was going on. Swindle was right about one thing, negotiations would have to go to someone beyond himself, but did an Autobot chain of command even exist anymore?

"I can take you with me; I think I can vouch for you short term, but no guarantees. And I don't think anyone will trust you."

"I'd prefer it that way. Trust creates liberties and liberties create... misunderstandings. Better for all if nothing is taken at face value." The cheekiness had returned, but there was a brief air of something else. Solemnity? Or was the Combaticon patronising the Diversionist? In any event Swindle had what he wanted from Smokescreen, an audience. For good or for ill, he was going to lead a Decepticon towards where Hound had called them.

"Follow me, Autobot; I know a way out of town away from prying eyes. We may need it the way you are dressed." Smokescreen, while aware of the problems associated with a rally car wandering the streets, speculated briefly if there was something else to be avoiding, and why Swindle's former frame continued to sit on the dock, now unattended. Swindle transformed into a sand coloured Jeep Wrangler and drove off down the abandoned warehouse interior, towards the city. Smokescreen paused and followed.

Next: Chapter 23: Blackmail & Brinkmanship


	23. Blackmail & Brinkmanship

Tracks had wondered for a long time what it might be like if one of his fellow veterans visited him. The reality had been considerably more disappointing than the pleasant reminiscing he had imagined.

For starters there had been two of them, not one, and neither had been his favourite kind of Autobot. Skids, frankly was boring. Of the science corps he could talk to Jetfire about flying, Wheeljack had a wicked sense of humour and Perceptor was at least quirky entertainment. Skids was just boring. All he was was his work and his discoveries and he told Tracks, on one of the few occasions he'd spoken to Tracks at all, that most of what he did was frivolous and irrelevant. There was no fun in Skids. Jazz was a considerable let down.

Jazz used to be fun.

Tracks had fond memories of sitting on his wheels, moving amongst the seething humanity at one of Jazz' warehouse gigs where he used the non-de-plume of DJ Ajaz, experimenting with infusions of popular dance, rap and pop music and sound effects. Tracks could distinctly remember one composition that had featured the sound that was not a sound of vessel broaching the gap between dimensions as it achieved faster than light travel. It was a sound felt as much as heard, and yet somehow, despite being stuck on Earth he had been able to sample it for an audience who could never have even conceived of the concept of its creation. That was not the Jazz that pulled up alongside him as Tracks' human companion processed the paperwork towards entering another show 'n' shine meet in San Diego.

"Tracks," Jazz had said simply as the white Mazda RX8 pulled up alongside.

"Jazz! I haven't seen you in years. Your new alt mode looks cute. Bit too rice boy for me." Tracks added a Chevrolet V8 rumble for emphasis.

“Whatcha up to musicman?” Tracks then noticed the grey Scion people mover pulling up alongside Tracks' other side as he waited in the cue on the grassed oval which sat beside the exhibition grounds being used for the car show. The people mover was hauling a trailer behind it on which sat a Honda Integra dressed up like a police cruiser which seemed illogical.

"Brought some friends too?"

"Skids and I are heading south. We want you to come. It is important." Jazz voice was neutral, not the friendly Earth language banter it once had been.

"Sounds like fun, but I don't think it will be as fun as this."

"They'll be plenty of opportunity to test yourself physically."

"Appealing to my vanity? Cute. I bet there will be shooting though. Much less shooting at car shows I’ve noticed. Well, that's not strictly speaking true. The sound offs tend to trigger an argument or two, and the odd moment of ‘bustacap inyoass’, but that's more your area than mine hey DJ Ajaz?" There was a long pause, as if mentioning a name from Jazz' past was making him think of other things.

"Hopefully it's a false alarm." He said eventually, without conviction.

"That sounded convincing. About as convincing as Streetwise here. You know there are no Honda Integra Police cars in America?"

"It's not Streetwise," said Skids, his voice containing a hint of anger which Tracks did not care to track towards its target. "And if we dither here too long the energon inhibitors will degrade sufficiently to return him to consciousness."

The proverbial penny dropped for Tracks. He remembered the chaos when this Autobot had broken free from the infirmary in Autobot City. Tracks looked at Jazz again through new eyes. There was a ruthlessness there he was suddenly wary of. Tracks was quite content with his existence, shallow though it was. As far as he was concerned the Autobots no longer needed his guns.

"You don't know that was a Decepticon attack." Tracks said, switching tracks to try to appeal to Jazz sense of logic. His human counterpart had spoken to Tracks of the explosion when it happened but Tracks himself had not followed the news closely.

"There were Decepticon brands left by the hundreds all over the site," Jazz was projecting his own anger now, and this time Tracks knew where it was being directed. "This was our responsibility."

"Jazz we spoke..." Skids began only to be savagely cut-off.

"Not now Skids. Tracks I am your commanding officer. You will stop the self-centred preening now!" A Stetson wearing human walked up to Tracks at this point, looked curiously at the Mazda and the Scion and its payload, before dropping into the driver’s seat.

"Tex, these are friends of mine," said Tracks pointedly. "They were just leaving."

"You are coming with us," said Jazz. Tracks piped the conversation through his in car speakers for the humans benefit.

"Tracks is retired now," said the human in a thick Texas accented drawl. "He served his time, let him get on with his life. He deserves one away from service now. Can’t you guys respect the Vets?"

"Tex," Jazz' voice was considerably more gentle. "We all want things we can't have. Tracks is not retired. He is AWOL and now is the time to come back to the fold."

"No Jazz." There was a long pause while nobody said anything. Eventually Tex spoke.

"We've got a display allocation let's go."

"Jazz we should be leaving," added Skids, seemingly willing to let Tracks go.

"If you don't come now, I will transform right here, and ensure everyone within earshot of my voice knows who you are. I don't imagine you will be allowed to enter one of these tournaments again." Jazz' voice was cold as space. Tracks did not doubt that he would. If Decepticons had sought blame for the Arlington bombing, Tracks had no idea if they had, then likely having his entry revoked would be getting away from here lightly.

"Tex, I'm going with them, I'm sorry. I don't want you involved in this."

"Tracks! Stand up for yourself."

"Jazz’ day will come Tex, but for the moment I will have to leave you here. I am sorry." The driver’s door of the blue Corvette then opened. With what grace remained Tex stepped out. Skids was already turning away back towards the road, while Jazz waited for Tracks to follow the laden trailer. Tracks looked back through rearward sensors past the string of immaculate cars to the lone figure left standing behind.

That had been yesterday. The convoy had reached the border and were waiting to be processed by startled US customs officials. One walked back to Jazz now leaned in the window, conversing with the Autobot. The boom gate opened and the white Mazda RX8 led the way across into Mexico, rapidly picking up speed. Tracks followed with the grey Scion picking up speed behind him. Two more days until they reached Hound in Guatemala. From what Skids had said Wheeljack, leading a group of four, was around a day ahead of them and should be about to cross into Guatemala. Then Tracks would find out the full story of this so called emergency and why Jazz had determined the Decepticon threat would arrive here.

Next Chapter 24: Decoys & Decepticons


	24. Decoys & Decepticons

The armoured scout vehicle had sat on the Vera Cruz dock for several hours before Shockwave finally decided to confront Swindle. He spent a good three minutes haranguing the Combaticon before Decepticharge looked over the vehicle with internal sensor to find the vehicle sparkless. Decepticharge chuckled briefly to himself before allowing a more public veneer of anger take hold.

"Shockwave we have been deceived. This is a sparkless husk of Swindle's former frame. Swindle and the Autobot are long gone." Shockwave paused. Decepticharge could imagine the monocular gaze centring on himself, but the Honda did not wait, driving into the large warehouse opening and driving part way down it abandoned length, following the path Swindle and Smokescreen had taken hours earlier.

"Hold." Shockwave's voice echoed around the room. Shockwave had spoken in the open air, not over a radio frequency. Decepticharge turned. The blue Mazda RX8 had followed him into the vast abandoned stock room, and transformed in the darkness of the Guatemalan evening inside the ageing wooden structure. Decepticharge followed suit.

"The trail is cold Decepticharge, we must find another method of tracking Swindle. Swindle will be predictable, and respond to my hails." Shockwave, who admired consistency of effort, no doubt expected Swindle to behave as before. Without the edge his former Combaticon frame gave him as a decoy, Decepticharge thought it unlikely Swindle would give away his position with a communication this time. Decepticharge turned away in frustration as Shockwave parodied himself, demonstrating the decay of Earth command under his supervision. Just for a moment both Decepticons had their backs to one corner of this section of warehouse.

Decepticharge sensed a commotion behind him and felt an arm drape itself roughly around his neck and disappear leaving behind a tingling sensation as a line crackled around his neck and restrained the Decepticon.

"Sssdand down Shhhockwave," urged a sibilant and heavily accented whisper. Decepticharge turned his head against the restraint. A dark figure had him by the throat with what felt like an energon garrotte, and particularly ugly weapon that if the new figure tensed, would decapitate him. The room was now lit from the faint purple glow from the filament in Shockwave's arm mounted lasing chamber, but as Decepticharge got his head twisted around, rubbing small grooves open in the plating on his neck as he did so, the gun arm was pointed away, the dark figure had the drop on the Military Operations Commander.

"Ssseassse ssstruggling liddle one," the voice continued, and for the moment Decepticharge complied while he worked away at some method of deactivating the garrotte.

"Ravage," said Shockwave. "What is the reason for this action?" The single yellow eye stared towards the two Decepticons as dispassionately as ever. Ravage kept up a casual but insistent pressure on Decepticharge's neck. But Ravage! Decepticharge almost yelped with delight. He remembered the Ravage of old, his impressive stealth and sabotage capabilities merged with his loyalty to Soundwave. He had been aloof before and uncommunicative, talking only with Soundwave, and even then using a language other than one of the generally used Cybetronian dialects. Ravage in one of these upright Binaltech frames would be a formidable, even supreme warrior, if his loyalty to Soundwave could be redirected in the Communicators absence.

"A desssd," said Ravage, his voice, though quiet, echoed in the large room. "You were afder my adention?"

"Yes Ravage," said Decepticharge from his restrained position. "A glorious call to arms to rekindle the cause that was lost. One day we will regain contact with Cybertron, we should be ready for that day as the masters of Earth."

At no time did Ravage look at Decepticharge, keeping a careful watch on Shockwave, who added nothing further to Decepticharge's statement. Decepticharge was about to tense to make his bid for freedom when he was suddenly spun around like a top, the garrotte fell away and the burnished metal Honda struggled to stay upright as equilibrium was torqued away from him.

Regaining his balance, the Decepticon noticed Ravage was gone; a black Chevrolet Corvette was pointed towards the entrance to the car sized passageway running one side of the warehouse.

"You ssseek the Combadicon? I can dake you do him. And you can exssplain to me your grand viszzhion." With that statement the Corvette moved off.

"Yes we shall," said Shockwave pointedly from behind Decepticharge. He started to turn but the blue Mazda RX8 was moving in the Corvette's wake now. Fuming at his impotence, but elated at having secured such a capable warrior to the cause, Decepticharge assumed the shape of the Honda S2000 and moved off towards the exit and into the streets of Vera Cruz, following Ravage westwards towards the highlands in the distance.

Next: Chapter 25: Presentations & Submissions


	25. Presentations & Submissions

Hound looked around at the gathering, and was vaguely pleased. A convoy of Autobots had arrived yesterday and now six transformers were gathered in front of where Hound had installed himself for this impromptu briefing. While he knew another four would arrive in around half a day’s time, certain influences were raising tensions within the group and Hound decided to bring things forward to forestall further argument.

The red and gold figure of Swerve stood in the middle of the group, hands clutched together before him protectively. Gathered around him were the newcomers. To Swerve's left was the red and grey figure of Windcharger standing bolt upright looking forward, his hands clasped behind his back. Standing on Swerve's other side and behind, leaning, almost slumping, against Swerve's rock formation was the silver and black figure of Grimlock. Seated and leaning forward with his arms around his knees was the silver and red Blue... Silverstreak while the white and blue of Wheeljack lounged himself comfortably on the other side of Swerve. Just to Wheeljack's left was the disarmed and nervous figure in black of Dead End.

The Decepticon's presence had raised tensions and caused an argument between himself and Wheeljack. Hound, while personally having remembered his own disgust towards the Stunticons at the time of Sunstreaker's death, his conscience railed against executing Dead End on the spot. He wondered whether the pathetic figure Dead End presented all by his lonesome had affected his thinking on the issue. Wheeljack and Windcharger had both been for executing him, while Silverstreak had talked of moderation and rehabilitation. Swerve, who had had longer to get used to his presence, had backed up Hound. Strangest of all, the one he expected the most problems with, Sideswipe aside; Grimlock had voiced no opinion whatsoever and had done nothing other than brood, which was the only thing he'd done since Wheeljack forged the path into the clearing with the others at his heels. Wheeljack had explained some of why this was, but it still left Hound disconcerted about the former Dinobot.

It was time. Swerve was starting to fidget and Dead End looked like he might take flight at any second. The increased number of Autobots had not helped his disposition at all. He kept looking across in the direction of Grimlock. They all seemed changed, and the Scout wondered if he looked as different in their eyes.

"Thank you all for coming, I have somewhat of an explanation for why I called you here. There is some back story to get through. Swerve knows some of it already, but first if you'd like to explain your discoveries?"

"Sure."

"Briefly?" Swerve paused at the subsidiary request, looking at Hound is if contemplating a comeback.

"I got here three days ago, when I did Hound first asked my to look at some pebbles." Swerve, perhaps feeling self-conscious stayed where he was in the midst of the audience, but tossed some pebbles around to each of them. Dead End looked like he was being tossed a grenade while both Grimlock and Windcharger let the pebbles fall at their feet ignored. Silverstreak, not untangling quickly enough from his seated position, dropped his and fumbled for it on the ground.

"Cybertronium?" The response came from Wheeljack not unexpectedly. The inventor was intensely familiar with the substance and was peering closely, rotating the nugget around with a prodded finger.

"Yes it is."

"Looks very rich," continued Wheeljack.

"Unusually, even uniquely so. As far as I can go with a field sensors I would rate it above 95% pure Cybertronium," Wheeljack looked up sharply at the comment. "It is unnaturally pure. There are also two seams, I discovered a second yesterday Hound, running away from this Mountain of Cybertronium as pure as I've ever heard of before." Swerve paused for dramatic effect.

"Cybertronium has not been previously discovered on this world by either Autobot or by humans."

"We never found any either," Dead End added. When most turned to look at him after his comment the black figure seemed to shrink under their gaze.

"Thanks Swerve. I believe I know what is causing this," Hound returned to the conversation. "I came up here three weeks ago with a human archaeological expedition. Wheeljack, Silverstreak, Windcharger and I have been here before."

"That cleft there which continues into that depression beyond was where the Nemesis lay after arriving on Earth. There was no-one on board as all the Decepticons were on the Ark at impact so it took some time to be re-discovered. When it was, Megatron liberated from the wreckage a device he called 'The Heart of Cybertron', which allowed Megatron to personally wield the power of the Nemesis. We were driven back to the Ark before Perceptor, Brawn and Bumblebee managed to destroy it on a Spec Ops mission that still makes me shudder to think about today."

"Brawn once spoke to me of that mission," said Wheeljack. "Despite everything he said the tough old petro-rabbit got freaked-out by that mission." There was a pause. Brawn and Bumblebee had both since died casualties of this never ending war. After the pause started to get awkward Hound started up again.

"The Heart of Cybertron was stable enough in the environs of the Nemesis' engine room, and within Megatron's body, but it put out quite a bit a radiation and some other things. With no power to the engine room shields, and several millions of years worth of decay, the surrounding Mountain, was contaminated. Much of the radiation disappeared along with what was left of the Nemesis, but it appears to have had several effects over the years."

"The local Mayan Indians liberated a piece of the wreckage and it was used as a great symbol of some kind. No reliable records from that time exist, and the Mayan race itself was almost wiped out by... something. The latest theory is that a great drought killed them by the hundreds of thousands leaving several citadels, like this one, abandoned. But it remains a theory."

"That 'holy relic', a fragment of irradiated Nemesis shielding, spent several decades in a Museum in Guatemala City before arriving at a University in Mexico City. After several years of study they started branching out into wilder theories, one of which led them to seek out an Autobot. That became hard because it was not long after the evacuation and those of us still here at the time had gone to ground. Eventually they found me by accident when I offered my services when I found out they were looking for resources to send an expedition here."

"A lot of this is my speculation now, but during the years of its study the chunk of shielding was measured and irradiated by several other human built devices and its nature was altered slightly. When we got here, the radiation reacted with something that had been here all along, I don't understand any of it, but atop the ziggurat over there is something which reacted."

"Someone, several years back, re-assembled a recognisable portion of the Nemesis drive room, and some of its computers have been brought on line and camouflaged that I only found through my experience with holograms. That's when I summoned you. Those computers and the remnants of the Nemesis engine room are customising this planet."

"I think that the Heart of Cybertron was the raw power behind the Nemesis. The engine room itself modified and customised the output for use. Because its only had what radiation was left up here, and what resources available locally, it will take thousands; maybe even millions of years, but left unchecked this will customise Earth into a large clone of Cybertron."

"You are joking, are you not?" The voice come from Windcharger but it now had a polished rich timbre that Hound did not remember him having previously. He still maintained an over-straight posture.

"Why not destroy the computers and be done with it?" added Wheeljack more practically.

"This is going to sound corny, but it's survived this long and is still potent, so I don't think it will be that simple."

"I think I need to go over this device," said Wheejack. "When Skids gets here between us we should be able to diagnose this thing before it becomes a problem. All that Cybertronium scares me though how much of it is there Swerve?"

Wheeljack stood and started to move towards the ziggurat. In the brief moment of disorganisation a noise broke out from the entrance to the site and a red Dodge Viper appeared engine note bellowing. Dead End screamed and the rest of the group was still reacting to the sudden appearance when the speeding figure transformed and stood and ran towards the group, weapon outstretched, face twisted into a rictus of vengeful anger.

"Oh frak, Swerve!" Hound had had a prepared plan if Sideswipe showed up before anyone else. Swerve raced to grab the incoming figure with Hound fighting his way through the astonished onlookers.

"You bastards," screamed Sideswipe. "You're protecting him!" Dead End whimpered and actually appeared to cower until it became a transformation, tucking down into a black and silver Viper.

"Sideswipe! Stand down!" Wheeljack was up now while Hound had joined Swerve into trying to restrain the maddened warrior as Dead End attempted to flee away along the site, higher into the former citadel.

"That waste of metal and his sparkless cronies killed Sunstreaker, don't make me hurt.." Sideswipe lost what patience he had left and laid Hound out with a powerful left cross to Hound's face, getting through the cranial armour to flatten him to the ground in stasis lock. He then grabbed one of Swerve's hands holding his torso and using superior strength started to crush the hand and peel it away from him. Whimpering in pain from delicate sensors screaming and overloading Swerve fell away from Sideswipe and sat. Windcharger stepped into Sideswipes path with one hand held in a human stopping sign.

"Sideswipe my friend all that is in the past if we can find a-urk" Sideswipe spun into a roundhouse right spin kick that landed on Windchargers chin, lifting him bodily into the air and dropping him cold on the ground. Wheeljack crash tackled Sideswipe to the ground while he was off balance from the kick. Silverstreak walked over and pulled the weapon from Sideswipe's grasp.

"You are in pain Sideswipe. Dead End's passing will not make your pain easier to bear. Let us all into your spark and allow us to share your grief. Your spark has drifted from its true path. Let me help you find yourself again." There was murder in Sideswipe's eyes, even acquiring purple tints to the blue, but it affected Silverstreak not an iota as he knelt by Sideswipe's head. Swerve had now added his weight as Autobots started a strange metallic 'stacks on' to subdue the orphaned Dodge.

"Get the frak off of me now Wheeljack." Sideswipe freed his left arm to strike at Wheeljack. Silverstreak leant forward and pinned the arm in place using only his weight to hold it in place.

There was commotion from behind as another vehicle crested the paths rise to the citdel plateau, and a blue rally car flew airborne off the crest at incredible speed, leaving the strange boxer thumping engine note ringing through the ruins. The Subaru Impreza unfolded into Smokescreen who ran to join the fight to subdue Sideswipe. Between the four them they held him pinned but Sideswipe was possessed. A heavy sigh sounded off to the left and a large figure walked over and raised black foot and stomped down hard on Sideswipes cranial armour, finally sending Sideswipe into stasis.

"Me Grimlock feel Sideswipe's pain," said the former Dinobot, the first words anyone could remember him saying since the troupe had left Nevada. "Me Grimlock say we throw two in pit and wait till there be one." The assembled Autobots turned to look at Grimlock. Smokescreen sat back from the limp Sideswipe and sighed.

"Damn it's good to see you walking around Silverstreak. That was not fun. We met Sideswipe at the base of the climb. He attacked my new friend before we said we were coming here. I guess he decided his priorities laid up here."

"What friend? You were the only Autobot not accounted for," said Wheeljack.

"Uhhh yeah. About that. I had hoped for better circumstances to introduce him." The sand coloured Jeep Wrangler had crested the rise in the mean time and driven up towards the assembled Autobots.

"I met him down at Vera Cruz," continued Smokescreen and despite our history I want you guys to listen to him. He does have a story worth telling."

"Him not Autobot," said Grimlock, for the first time drawing his energo sword, despite the presence of Dead End since arriving at the Mountain top. In the background Dead End had returned and walked back towards the group.

"Swindle?" The tan and black transformer unfolded, purple Decepticon brand displayed prominently on his jutting torso.

"So much for surprise, greetings Dead End, you don't look well." The Decepticon turned to face his once deadly foes. "I don't know the purpose of this gathering, but I heard the call and I came. I come bringing you an offer that is in your best interests to at least listen too. Look beyond the insignia, and recognise a fellow Cybertronian just for a moment and have a listen to a tale of economic realities and how to avoid long term starvation. As the humans say, this jive, sells itself."

Next: Chapter 26: Fight & Flight


	26. Fight & Flight

It was usual procedure for prospective clients to want to confer after the initial offer had been made, so Swindle took the opportunity to explore this legendary site where the Nemesis had ended its final flight. The crash site itself was sufficiently ancient that it gave off no sign of once having held a Cybetronian pocket battleship. Swindle transformed into the sand coloured Jeep Wrangler and proceeded to move further afield.

Swindle moved towards the one part of the site that held any interest to him. To exhumed grave of the Nemesis. Where the treeline met the depression he transformed and stood, turning briefly to look at the conferring Autobots. Dead End continued to slink amongst them, and for the moment the Decepticon appeared to have been accepted into their midst. He wondered about that particular back story, and speculated over whther there was a possible lever to employ to help get what he wanted from the Autobots.

He decided they would probably defer. Wheeljack was the senior Autobot present, but Jazz was on his way, so it seemed either they would come to a consensus or wait for Jazz. But why Jazz? One of them also said Prowl was coming, Optimus Prime's long serving ADC who was thought to have perished during the battle for Autobot City.

Somewhere deep in Swindle spark, the piece of him that was Bruticus stirred again. It had stirred when he had laid optics on Dead End, recognising a fellow Gestalted warrior. The imbecilic monster stirred again. Swindle braced himself once more for the wave of pain to engulf him as his fellow Combaticons tried to get his attention. He was determined not to be bowed by a headache. The pain did not come however, and a voice reached out to him through the ether via secure Decepticon frequency.

"Swindle, do not react to my voice." The voice was flat and cold with little inflection. Not far removed from Soundwave's infact. Swindle cursed to himself bitterly at his failure. Despite all his careful planning Shockwave had arrived to dash all hope of him securing a future on this fetid mudball independant of the actions of others. He felt a sudden hatred of Shockwave that passed over and returned to contempt like a summer breeze. Passion had its place, but not at the negotiation table. A table he was once more metaphorically seated at. Bring it on you purple protoform.

"So you found me anyway Shockwave. Congratulations. There may be something to your inflated reputation after all."

"It was I, Decepticharge who found you Combaticon," said a second voice. Decepticharge was not a familiar name, but the voice was vaguely familiar. Why did 'Decepticharge' feel it neccessary to identify himself upfront? Was it because he was familiar to Swindle and yet wanted to keep that knowledge hidden? Bruticus seemed to agree in the strange wordless way the behemoth communicated while the Combaticons existed seperately. Was then this new voice another gestalted warrior? Plainly it wasn't Onslaught or any of his former cohorts. A Constructicon? The voice suggested intelligence, Mixmaster or Hook? Or Razorclaw?

"That matters not 'Decepticharge'" Swindle added extra scorn to the name, as if pronouncing its bearer unworthy to wear a name other than it had received at template. Antogonise the newcomer. Let his temper tell Swindle secrets Decepticharge himself would hold close. "I tell you what I told ol' one eye. I am no longer a Decepticon, and I reject your philosophies and goals. You hold nothing for me but emptiness."

"And yet your spark calls and longs to return to our banner despite your words." Again the briefest touch of another Gestalt. Swindle could not identify it.

"Despite your value to the cause as a limb of Bruticus, you no longer form that limb and we can retain your clever decoy as a bargaining chip to get Onslaught on our side. I thank you for the gambit."

"What then, a return to the Decepticons of old? A glorious challenge of conquest of the Autobots? A peace for a purpose? We lost. Unicron gutted our army and Galvatron's madness dragged us into desperation. I will never again put myself in the position where I have to beg for energon to survive. What do you have that can guarantee a future when I can get the Autobots to put me in the lap of luxury?"

"He hasss a future that will give usss a Cssybertron of our own," hissed a third voice. Three figures manifested theselves in the treeline, still hidden in shadow, but distinct enought that Swindle could pick out details. The blue figure of Shockwave was obvious enough. The silver and purple figure was probably Decepticharge, the third...

An animalstic head topped a black frame the seemed to melt back into the trees almost as soon as it had appeared. Running through other spectrums of light, even then was difficult to see the figure apart from a pair of glinting red eyes. As recognition dawned Swindle suddenly felt afraid for himself. Against a reduced Shockwave and this stranger Swindle was confident he could hold his own. If this was Ravage, then Swindle had to take care indeed.

Almost as frightening was the staement itself. What could that mean? Bruticus stirred again, and Swindle turned towards the uneven stone structure that dominated the site. There was something about it... Swindle thought he could feel something being given off. His sensors warned him of an unusual radiation that was not harmful, but might if it was stronger.

An alien radition. Three Decepticons who were not what they appeared, and yet were confident, despite being outnumbered two to one. Three to one. Site that once held a ruined Decepticon battleship. A battleship Megatron himself had commissioned. And commissioned its power core. Behind his red visor Swindles eyes went wide. It would mean re-enslavement to the Decepticons. Enslavement to Shockwave and too... too... Bruticus cried a name, half heard and unexpected.

Swindle stood confused. There was no future here. These Decepticons held not his future, but his death. Now or later, it would matter not. For better or worse Swindle's die was cast. The Autobots were his future.

Swindle turned and fled into the open area without a further word and ran around one corner of the archeological site, heading back to the relative safety of the Autobots. Even if they thought he was leading an attack they would likely only wound him. The look on the Decepticons behind him now was only death. Bruticus stirred again, but this is no communication. Pain gripped Swindle's spark, a frim grip squeezing the life from him, riminding him that a portion of his spark was not his and a desire to return and form into comfort of the hive mind. Not now Onslaught raged Swindle, suddenly he wishing the security of the gestalt was achievable. Swindle stumbled but straightened quickly careening into a blue figure that was braced for the impact from the distracted Combaticon. He knew he needed help and made a last desperate call as he stumbled between the ancient masonry.

"Blast Off if you're in orbit track my location and fire, donut pattern. Now!" There was no reply and now energy rained forth from the heavens. Swindle stood and ran once more, taking a moment to sweep Shockwave's legs from underneath him with his legs. Turning to look behind him for signs of pursuit in other directions, he failed to see what was coming and ran into a dark figure. He bounced and would have fallen backwards onto his posterior had the dark figure not extended both arms, crossed over and tossed something around Swindle's neck. He felt the chord bite into his neck and the tingle of energon running along the chord. In amoment Swindle looked at the head of the darkened figure, it was animalistic, looking like an exagerated version of a panther or a jaguar.

"Ravage?" The figure did not answer verbally but nodded ever so slightly. Light momentarily danced in one haemoglobin red eye, reflected from something beyond Swindle's line of sight. Swindle knew then. He had spent his life as a gambler, a risk taker, a wildcard in the pack. The 'Con with the resources if you had the plan. All those risks, pennies taken from the goddess of furtune. A debt now to be reclaimed.

"Oh frak." Swindle detected the tension in Ravage's upper musculature build up and there was a sudden pain around his neck. The last thing Swindle saw was the sky tumbling backwards but there was no feeling and the great darkness came to claim him.

"Until a..."

Next: Chapter 27: Depression & Paranoia


	27. Depression & Paranoia

Dead End had decided that like Swindle, he should not be present for the deliberations of Swindle's proposal. However he felt no kinship towards the confident Combaticon, and instead walked his own path of the site, ever wary of the collapsed form of Sideswipe, that ever present feeling of panic in his mind the Sideswipe would revive while the others continued to argue.

While he watched he saw Sideswipe stir. His right arm groped around before steadying, and pushing aginst the ground, moving the red and black figure into a seated position while the other hand held his cranial armour. Dead End stodd rivetted while the semi-distant figure looked around, watched the arguing Autobots for a second, then continued to track his gaze around. Suddenly the Autobot had his gaze looked on Dead End and climbed rapidly to his feet. Dead End moved now, stepping backwards one step at a time while Sideswipe found his feet. His head seemed to grow larger, to accomodate a maniacal grin, full of large white teeth.

With a lurch Dead End tripped and stumbled backwards against something. Something that pushed back hard and Dead End was propelled suddenly forwards onto his face. Rapidly Dead End spun onto his back, looking up at the figure standing over him.

"Con should watch step. Con might get skewered." Grimlock brandished his Energo Sword at Dead End and the Stunticon found himself crawling backward on his posterior away from the Dinobot until he remebered what was behind him. Climbing rapidly to his feet, Dead End spun back to face the Autobots, reaching for a gun he no longer possesed.

Sideswipe was in stasis lock, exactly where he had been since Grimlock had rendered him so. Dead End stared for several moments.

"You look at Sideswipe much. He not that pretty."

Dead End's brain snapped into a freeze. The former Dinobot had made... a joke? The terrified Stunticon turned back towards the grey-framed Autobot. Dead End had come here seeking refuge from an obsessive vengeance and to seek the company of others of his race, if not his creed. Companionship was often found in the unlikiliest of places.

"I thought I saw Sideswipe moving."

"Why you so worried on Sideswipe?"

"Sideswipe is going to kill me."

"That good reason. Why?" Dead End had no idea why Grimlock of all people wanted to talk, but given the opportunity, Dead End suddenly wanted to unburden himself and found his voice no longer shaking.

"I... that is we, the Stunticons, killed Sunstreaker. There was a series of fights between us and the twins and we wounded Sideswipe, so that he was forced to take up that frame and we attacked while they were vulnerable. We pounded poor Sunstreaker near flat."

"Me Grimlock remembers Sunstreaker. Me not like much. Good fighter. Love his self too much. Him thought he could beat me Grimlock." There was a pause before the Ford continued quietly. "Me Grimlock thinks he could now."

"They had one of these human frames built for him, but we stole it. Wildrider was in pretty bad shape and we needed it for him. Or that was how we justified it."

"Sunstreaker died from no frame? Wish that happen Me Grimlock."

"You're Grimlock. Yours is one of the most terrifying names in the Decepticon army. Even Motormaster is... was wary of you."

"Motormaster idiot." Dead End could not help but agree with the sentiment.

"Yes, yes he was."

"What happen stolen frame?" Dead End did not answer, but instead looked shamefacedly back towards Sideswipe. There was another long pause. The two considered the view, Dead End examined the lengthening shadows of the solid objects around Sideswipe, trying to create a 3D visualisation to keep track of the Autobot's location where ever he was on the plateau.

"Me Grimlock understand now. You stole frame for Slag or Snarl, me Grimlock would kill you too."

"I hate this frame. I wish I could shuck it like a lizard-snake... those long thin human things... ahhh slaggit."

"Me Grimlock understand that too." Dead End looked up at Grimlock from the crouch he had put himself in.

"Really?

"Me Grimlock was Dinobot. Now me Grimlock just puny car. Me Grimlock bash less brains than before." Dead End looked at Grimlock with new eyes. Here was not the terrifying war machine, but a lost warrior without his guns. An invalid.

"Grimlock, there might be still a future for you. You have this new frame, and they have plenty of guns and speed. You still have your sword. Me? I'm going to spend the rest of my days looking over my shoulder. Sideswipe will never forgive me."

"Good. Anger important. Help make kill."

"You're not helping Grimlock."

"Me Grimlock not help Decepticon. Me Grimlock know 'Cons pain." And suddenly Dead End understood. Grimlock could not relate to his fellow Autobots while he felt impotent in front of them. So he had sought out the opinion of the one who would not care. There was a long pause while the two sat and contemplated the distance.

"Do you miss the Dinobots?"

"Dinobots hate puny frames. Dinobots laugh at Me Grimlock."

"Do they laugh at your voice?"

"They get metal munched if laugh at Me Grimlock."

"If they didn't laugh at the way you speak, was that because they saw you were smarter than you sounded?"

"They not laugh. Me Grimlock rip heads."

"They followed you into battle didn't they? Sludge is as strong as you right?"

"Sludge strong. Me Grim..." the voice tailed away, probably remembering his present predicament.

"They would not follow Sludge would they."

"No." Grimlock's voice was very quiet now.

"Would they laugh at you now?"

"Yes. No. Me Grimlock think no."

"Do you miss the Dinobots?"

"Yes." The pause this time was broken by Grimlock. "You miss puny Car 'Con slag?"

Dead End could not help but smile at Grimlock's phraseology.

"I think I do. In life we hated each other. We only worked together because Menasor made us, and because we did like to do the same things. Breakdown was mad and Motormaster was an idiot, but yeah, now I miss them. I had gotten used to them being around, and I hate them now a whole lot less than a bunch of Seekers I could name. It wouldn't be so bad though if it wasn't for Menasor."

"Big ugly not dead?"

"Oh he's dead, he just won't pass on to Vector Sigma. He's still in here." Dead End wrapped his breast armour with his left knuckles twice. "He tortures me in there Grimlock. If I ever stop what I'm doing for a moment he is there, blaming me. I almost want Sideswpe to kill me sometimes."

"Me Grimlock kill you if help?" Dead End looked sideways at the former Dinobot, the behemoth who had killed more Decepticons than anyone could tally. He could not not decide if the grey figure was serious or not.

"Not now. Maybe later." The pair of them sat for a while longer not talking while the arguements raged off to their right. Dead End stood. If he could talk to Grimlock, maybe there was someone else he could talk to. Someone else not satisfied with the brand he wore.

"I have to go see Swindle about something." If Grimlock minded the two Decepticons on the site talking to each other, Dead End could not tell. He made no additional comment.

"In case I don't get the chance later, and I never thought I'd ever have the desire to say this, but thank you Grimlock." Grimlock continued to stare straight at ahead. When Dead End finally started to step away, the black armoured head turned.

"Dead End not do dead things." Did Grimlock care? Dead End nodded and turned away, walking towards where he thought he had seen Swindle disappear to. Aftre walking for some time he eventually saw a pair of black feet sticking out from around a corner. Dead End could not remember how long he stood there, looking at the unmoving feet, fearing but knowing what he would find. It felt like hours before he took the turn around the corner of the ziggurat to find the headless figure, sparking and leaking mech fluid from the now open neck aperture.

As if surrounded by lightning, Swindle's form suddenly bleached. The black turned middle grey, the sand coloured armour panels, turned white in the light. Dead End turned. The construct on the ziggurat was blazing now. Brightly light, but not incandescent, flickering with colours shot through it. Dead End started stumbling backwards, around the corner again. Turning the black figure started to run back towards the assembled Autobots. They in turn had ceased their animated discussion. One of them, Smokescreen he thought, pointed towards him, or more likely the Ziggurat. Whatever was producing the light, made no sound however. Dead End started running. One of the Autobots was firing, bursts of hot light elongated and stretched out towards the Stunticon. The world slowed. The blots whipped past overhead. Grimlock appeared from the left, moving towards the others. In the sudden light Dead End could see clearly all the way across the clearing in the fading light of early evening. A white low slung car was just cresting the rise into the clearing.

The energy bolts were coming more rapidly now. Alone, unarmed and heading towards incoming fire, the situation suddenly caused Dead End to pause in his thinking, and he sought cover amongst the ageing artifacts, his back towards the direction of fire. He started to turn back and head towards the treeline to the left. Dead End did not know why he suddenly was drawn to the treeline. He did not want to go there. Sideswipe lay close to the treeline, Dead End wanted to be in the open, to keep Sideswipe in sight. The desire to head for the trees was not his.

It was Menasors.

Something within Dead End's spark suddenly flared. Menasor's voice cried out, reaching out for something faded, a voice yelling that only Dead End could hear. Two figures stepped into the clearing at a dead run, but still hidden from view of the Autobots by the structure. A third appeared, transforming into a black Chevrolet Corvette and raced away from Dead End's vision to some other part of the site.

Briefly the monocular gaze of what could only be Shockwave held Dead End's gaze captive, but that was not what Menasor recognised. The third Decepticon was not someone he recognised with his eyesight, but with his spark. Dead End knew this Decepticon to be dead. He was aware the burnished silver and purple robot was looking directly at him, and he raised a long barrelled rifle at Dead End but lowered it again. The pair ran towards Dead End. They each grabbed Dead End by and arm and brought him into cover behind one of the ruined buildings.

"Why didn't you answer me?" said Dead End. Shockwave's gaze turned towards the two.

"Shut up Stunticon." The metallic figure snarled.

"I've been so alone with Menasors rantings."

"Identify yourself Stunticon," this was Shockwave, still not aware. Dead End ignored the Decepticon Military Operations Commander and stared at the face if not the figure Menasor called out to. The familiar spark of the like mind, of a fellow Stunticon, back from the dead, survivor of Sideswipe's wrath.

"Why didn't you speak to me Wildrider?"

Next: Chapter 28: Mongrels & Mutineers


	28. Mongrels & Mutineers

"Wildrider?" The implacable Shockwave had paused in preparing to fire down range towards the Autobots and now stared at Decepticharge as if he had suddenly been revealed as Wheelie, or at least as close as his expressionless mask would allow. "I have been working with the advice of a Stunticon?"

"What of it cyclops? Has it been bad advice? Since when did you care about a voices name compared to what it said?"

"You have led us here on a fool’s errand. Stunticons are nothing but fools."

"You would prejudge?"

"Based on historical data, yes. I am leaving you to your doom."

"Unicron be upon you Shockwave. You are no better than that egotist Megatron. All he saw when he created us was size, so he made Motormaster the Stunticon leader, and between the two of them, and the stupidity of Drag Strip, the insanity of Breakdown, and this imbeciles pathetic impersonation of a warrior I've been forced to dumb myself down to their level, because short sighted fools like Megatron, Starscream and even the great battlefield technician hiding behind that cursed yellow eye." As he spoke Decepticharge put all the sarcastic venom he could muster into the last sentence, trying to shock Shockwave into returning through his audacity.

"Who was it Shockwave who went and get the intelligence that Swindle claimed as his? I'm glad the schemer is dead. He was good at claiming others work as his own. The slagger had an innate ability for it. While the Stunticons were throwing their periodic fits and running separate from each other, I was out making contacts with humans who might help us. How do you think I was able to rid us of the observations of the accursed human intelligence services? There is a vast undercurrent of disaffected humans that Megatron and Starscream only ever scratched the surface of with lunatics like Arkeville."

Truth was he needed Shockwave; needed him a lot more than his former team mate cowering at his feet. Decepticharge suddenly felt the need to unload.

"Why in the stars are you not dead Dead End? I arranged it so you would be. As long as I was Stunticon no-one was going to listen to me. The only way I could go forward was to get rid of you all. And it was so easy. You all trusted each other so little, once the fight was picked with the right Autobot, one who would hunt and cut down each one of you, you would not be able to stop him. It did not matter which of those twins we killed, the other would come after you all."

"Why hasn't Sideswipe killed you yet?" Decepticharge's rage boiled over and he slapped Dead End across the face in a very human gesture. Belatedly Dead End held his hands to his face, but Decepticharge's rage had boiled over. He turned towards Shockwave, who continued to stare at the two former Stunticons, oblivious to the incoming Autobot fire, which passed over their heads, heading for the dazzling light show atop the ziggurat.

"So what are you going to do Shockwave? What if this is not going to work, what then? Are you going to sulk on this fetid mudball, perpetually waiting for a Galvatron who is probably dead anyway, to come and rescue you, or are you going to seize the chance? For you in your life take a risk you slagging pile of scrap."

Shockwave remained still for a moment, before placing his rifle on the ground, freeing up his one hand. Stepping towards Decepticharge he swung in suddenly and slammed his fist into the face of his verbal assailant.

"You are impertinent and insubordinate," Shockwave started. "Your personal worth to me has diminished into a liability as your scheming has destroyed not just one, but two combiner gestalts. But we are near surrounded by Autobots. Whether I commit to the plans of your delusionally optimistic mind is no longer material. I will defeat these Autobots regardless of the merit of your plans. You can support me in the destruction of these Autobots," and Shockwave's gun arm came up and levelled at Decepticharge's head which now leaked mech fluid from several points, "or you can die here amongst them." Decepticharge looked down the barrel of the purple tinted filament lasing chamber of Shockwave's gun arm for a second, recognising the glow from the focussing crystals buried deep in Shockwave's arm.

Decepticharge cursed himself, cursed the situation and cursed Shockwave to Unicron and back, but said nothing. Still under Shockwave's gun he picked up his long barrelled rifle and aimed down range at those Autobots who had not sought cover.

"Then what are we waiting for, Commander," said Decepticharge, stating the name with a voice dripping in sarcastic poison. Let's shoot some slag."

Shockwave turned, retrieving his rifle he pointed both it and his gun arm downrange.

"Select a target," said Shockwave.

"I'll take the silver and red one."

"After initial salvo, fire at targets of opportunity and shift to an alternative cover position on my command. Fire on my mark," Shockwave paused for the briefest of moments, "Mark!"

The bark of three energy weapons firing at once rent the air.

Next: Chapter 29: Realisations & Compensations


	29. Realisations & Compensations

"Fire!"

A loud rushing noise filled the clearing and the Autobot position filled briefly with white smoke. Autobots covered their optics as one of Swerve's overhead mounted missiles thundered off its rail, roaring its way up the site. A bolt of lightning reached out from the strange light, to grab the incoming projectile, exploding it in mid-air, creating a pressure wave that did nothing to shift the flimsy looking construction atop the ziggurat, but knocked flat several stone structures.

"OK," judged Wheeljack slowly. "So missiles don't work." Responding to the explosions, several Autobots fired their energy weapons at the semi-distant glowing object.

"What in the name of the chaos god is that?" Wheeljack turned at the sound of a new voice to see Jazz running towards him, a blue version of Swerve at his heels, presumably Tracks.

"Jazz! Where have you been rusting?" Wheeljack was genuinely happy to see him. He had tired rapidly of command, of dealing with the minutiae of motivating and focussing troops under his command. Now these misfits could be his problem.

"Damn glad to see you boy!" cried Jazz, briefly clutching Wheeljack's shoulder, a hint of his old self starting to re-emerge now that the firing had begun.

"Hey!" yelled Tracks not wanting to be left out. "Whose that wearing my old frame?"

"Tracks you filthy pig!" cried Swerve. "Do you know what I had to do to this before it was wearable and before I could stop thinking of your spark in here with me? I should slug you where you stand!" Tracks moved away towards Swerve.

"What's the situation?" said Jazz, to Wheeljack's relief, now all business.

"Short version, someone is trying to recreate the Heart of Cybertron on top of that Ziggurat in order to remake Earth in the image of Cybertron."

"That's the short version?"

"It's the real short version. I'd take longer, but when we did the longer version last time it wasn't making strange lights and detonating missiles with electrical discharges."

"OK, what do we need to do?"

"Take a closer look at it."

"What's preventing you?" With that simple question Wheeljack cursed himself. He spent so long in labs that sometimes the practicalities of life slip by unnoticed.

"I suppose we could walk up and knock." Wheeljack noticed a brief twinkling and suddenly he was lying on the ground on his side in pain. A cacophony of voices suddenly erupted.

"Cover!"

"Decepticons!"

"Where is Swindle?"

"Tracks is hit, MEDIC!"

"Where's that fire coming from?"

"Where's Dead End the slagger?!"

"Should have let Sideswipe kill him."

"Hold still Wheeljack you've taking a hit in the shoulder." Jazz crouched over Wheeljack, inspecting the wound.

"MEDIC!" The voice belonged to someone else on the site. Turning slightly Wheeljack could see Tracks down and unmoving.

"Who else is hit?" This was Jazz' voice.

"Silverstreak looks bad, and I can't get to him. There's plenty of fire incoming now." Wheeljack thought that was Smokescreen.

"Swerve, Smokescreen find out how many guns we're dealing with."

"MEDIC!" Hound, crouching over Tracks called again.

"Hound have we even established if anyone here is qualified?"

"I'll save him," called a ridiculously baritone voice.

"Get down Windcharger I know you're not qualified." Jazz was annoyed.

"Ah you've met the new Windcharger then?" Jazz grunted and pulled Wheeljack further behind cover. Hound came across to help and Wheeljack was propped against the back of a stone building next to the stasis locked Tracks. "I don't think it's Dead End, I've still got the weapon Hound confiscated from him."

"What about Swindle?" asked Jazz. Wheeljack noted he left off asking about what Decepticons were doing here in the first place, much less being talked about with an familiarity.

"If Swindle's offensive suite is the same as Hound's, then he's only got a blaster pistol. We've got somebody else out there. Someone better armed. Probably more than one." Jazz cursed. A wave of pain washed over Wheeljack, pixellating his vision. When it cleared Jazz was looking concerned.

"Take it easy. Where's Skids? He came up with me. Skids!" Wheeljack grunted through the pain and noticed Jazz looking from the left to the right. "He's not in sight. Hound go find Skids, now. Hang in theere Wheeljack, I've got to see to Bluestreak. You'll be fine."

"Frell will you just go already you old archivist?" Jazz took one last look at Wheeljakc and leapt along the line of Autobots firing up the site, passing Hound heading in the other direction.

What now?

Next: Chapter 30: Remembrance & Retribution


	30. Remembrance & Retribution

The joyous sound of battle filled his receptors. Off to the left somewhere, energy weapons exchanged fire. The sound of territory being argued over, playing off distance against the risk of taking fire. The never ending arguement over the possession of something created by the forces of nature billions of vorns ago that would long outlast empires and conquerors.

Ravage dedicated two of his 'bugs' to monitor the developing battle over the Autobot lines. His personal task was to pick off the stragglers and reduce their numbers. His remaining bugs had fanned out to cover a particular part of the lower end of the site. There were two, maybe three targets visible, not presently engaging Decepticharge and Shockwave. Only of of them was mobile. The bugs were gradually creating an increasingly good 'sonic' map of the area. There were two Binaltech frames in view, one, an unfamiliar one, was inspecting, even tending to the other unmoving one whose frame was outwardly similar to that of Dead End, of whom he'd gotten a brief glimpse of. The head however was more familiar.

Sideswipe!

The warrior twins had been a tremendous thorn in the side of the Decepticons back in the day. Rumour was that Sunstreaker was now dead and Sideswipe was taking a very personal vengeance on the Stunticons. Which might explain the brief picture of a plainly confused Dead End running almost haphazardly beneath the fire fight before his own objective had taken shape.

Beyond the two figures was an unmoving human vehicle mounted on a trailer which Ravage detailed his bugs to ignore. Presumably it had been left behind by the fleeing humans.

A third figure moved into view of the bugs as Ravage approached. Larger than the reclined Sideswipe but not as bulky as the unknown figure, the energo sword holstered at this targets hip narrowed the possibilities. The blue figure turned towards the newly arrived grey figure. Grey spoke first.

"Sideswipe not well?" The voice was intensely familiar at once sounding strained and yet simplistic, this could only be Grimlock.

A Grimlock, now wearing the body of a vehicular Autobot. Would Grimlock be able to fight as effectively in a body much less powerful than his previous frame? That would be very interesting to find out.

"No Grimlock he is not," reported the bugs, transmitting to blue Autobots words through the ether towards their master, who now were referring to a copy of some of Soundwave's battle files, attempting to cross reference the Autobot's voice. "Whomever did this to him did a job on him."

"Me Grimlock still pack punch even in puny human junk-frame." These two Autobots voices were caught and picked up by around seven bugs making for crystal clear transmission.

"You did this?"

"Me Grimlock stomped on face while others held him down."

"Why?"

"He try to kill Decepticon."

"We're knocking down our own troops for trying to kill the enemy?"

"This nice Decepticon."

"Grimlock, I've stopped trying to understand."

"Where's Skids? He came up with me. Skids! He's not in sight. Hound go find Skids, now. Hang in there Wheeljack, I've got to see to Bluestreak. You'll be fine." This last sentence, scratchier and filled with static, had been picked up from the confusion of the Autobot lines and battle files had attributed the voice to Jazz whom Ravage had not been previously aware of being present, just as the battle files also came up with the name of the Autobot theoretician Skids. The Autobots were bringing up troops in numbers Decepticharge and Shockwave might not be able to deal with despite the defensibility of their position. Ravage had a task to do, and soon this position of isolated Autobots would have three to one odds, four if Sideswipe revived, and Ravage could not fight that.

Bringing his plasma cutter to bear, he fired at Grimlock and kept on firing causing Skids to look the wrong way as Grimlock crashed to the Earth. By the time the makeshift medic was properly aware of the direction of the danger, Ravage was on him. Skids was not a soldier. He could hold a gun and might even be able to shoot straight, but he collapsed to one knee after Ravage's fusion gun struck the Autobots left knee falling slightly to the right in time to be collected by a snap kick to the cranial armour that would have rattled his braincase. A dazed Skids fell backwards, sparking from his internals, well into stasis lock or worse.

Grimlock was returning to his feet, but he was as susceptible as anyone in the knee joint as Ravage raked his Fusion Gun back across Grimlock's legs, cutting them from underneath as Hound appeared. The green figure stopped dead, raising his blaster pistol, but Ravage already had his plasma cutter in position, anticipating Hound's arrival and blasted the Autobot repeatedly forcing him backwards from hit after hit. The pistol fell from a suddenly nerveless grasp and Hound was no longer able to protect himself as he screamed wordlessly and soundlessly in the rapidly increasing gloom of evening.

While terminating Swindle, Ravage had detected a weakness in the design of the Jeep Wrangler frame, and tested it now, bringing the fusion gun in and under the large exaggerated torso, firing point blank into a weak point in the armour. Hound's face adopted a rictus of pain and froze in position, crashing backwards, no longer seeing, no longer aware.

The bugs detected an incoherent speech pattern from behind and Ravage danced briefly on his feet before rolling in away from the Autobot Scout, coming up firing again from a different angle that Grimlock could not react quickly enough to. The former Dinobot raised his own weapon only to have his own gun arm shot away, dropping the twin barrelled rifle. Ravage closed as Grimlock brought up his energo sword to delay Ravage and keep him at arms length, but again Ravage was too quick, getting a spin kick in that impact in Grimlock's chest. On the follow through, Ravage grabbed the yet to be activated hilt and tore it from the Autobots grasp, and followed up with a high snap kick which impacted on Grimlock's chin, lifting him bodily into the air away from Ravage, collapsing across some ancient buildings, crushing them to powder beneath his weight.

Confidence overwhelmed Ravage and he did not press his advantage, stepping back momentarily, but not far enough as Grimlock swept his good leg across Ravage's ankles, causing him to stumble, which was quickly followed by a thudding impact to the cranial armour from Grimlock's closed fist. Ravage almost fell, but he stayed upright, using his stumbling momentum to clear Grimlock's reach briefly. Ravage spun to face Grimlock, and blocked the oncoming rush, landing a blow of his own to the Autobot's midsection, firing his wrist mounted weapon into the bargain, causing Grimlock to fold in half and stumble to his knees, where his exposed cranial face plate met a black upthrust knee.

Grimlock grasped Ravage left hip as he fell with one hand and plunged his other fist into Ravage's abdomen, twice before he could twist out of his grasp, spinning away sweeping a heel across Grimlock's forehead, crashing him to the ground. This was becoming disappointing but he had to finish Grimlock quickly. Grimlock rolled over on the ground and as Ravage moved in close again, Grimlock had rolled across his discarded energo sword and activated it. There was real danger here and Ravage dashed forward to meet the incoming blow and grasped Grimlock's arms as he struggled to absorb the momentum of the swing. The pair danced briefly in a circle as Ravage slowed the Mustang. The pair then got into a battle of strength over the powered blade.

And Grimlock was gaining. All the power of the Autobot was focussed and redoubled into the task of subdueing this Decepticon, of cleaving him in two. It should not have been a contest, the stealthy Cassetticon against the mightiest Dinobot, but Binaltech had become the leveler. However Grimlock was winning the game, millimetre by millimetre.

As the four clutched arms moved across Ravage's body, pressing, the humming blade towards Ravage's torso, his left wrist moved across into line of sight, and Ravage triggered his wrist mounted plasma cutter. Grimlock staggered backwards from the sudden blow, clutching a wounded face and his compromised knee collapsed him into the dirt as he staggered, before falling full length.

Ravage's eyes gleamed. He was weary and short of energon, but he had fought the vaunted Grimlock to a standstill. The silver figure lay on the ground, not getting up. Using the speed that had served him so well he dived in and liberated the energo sword from Grimlock's nerveless hand. The blank face visored Autobot refused to slip into stasis and appeared to be summoning the strength to stand. Ravage decided in a moment of honour to let him. With the sword activated he would cleave Grimlock's head from his shoulders and bury the ethereal blade to the hilt in his spark chamber. Grimlock rolled to the right and got his right leg underneath him. Grimlock hopped around on his knee, turning to face Ravage. Ravage, benevolently, let him. Grimlock got his left leg centred and wobblingly stood. Weaponless, but indomitable to the last. He said nothing. But someone else spoke.

"Here Kitty."

Ravage prided himself on his ultra alert senses, senses which were enhanced by his flying bugs. No-one had approached, but there was the noise of a transformation behind him. Ravage turned and had first his own gun, then Grimlock's sword, smashed from his hands. A hand grasped Ravage's arm below the elbow and a powered weapon bashed rapidly and methodically three times at the plasma cutter, rendering it useless. Slightly dazed Ravage realised the white and black car that he and many others had walked past and ignored, was now standing and staring down at Ravage with an energised baton in one hand, his blue eyes tinged with red.

Ravage knew body language. He knew by the way this bot stood that he had recognised his opponent from Autobot City years ago. Finally Ravage got a good look at the face and recognised the red antennaed white helmet of the logician Prowl. Ravage's dazed mind failed to understand how it could be Prowl, and failed to come up with a counter. Prowl grasped a second baton, touched them briefly to each other at the hilts and twisted momentarily and an elasticised joint connected them, creating energon nunchuks.

Then the quiet voiced strategist spoke. Harsh and raspy, it was a voice dripping in pain, but a voice promising violence and a personality happy to be inflicting it.

"Here Kitty Kitty Kitty."

Ravage was still scouring his battle files, trying to figure out an effective counter when the baton swung across his face with incredible speed.

Next: Chapter 31: Demands & Countermands


	31. Demands & Countermands

"As far as I can tell, there are just three guns, but they have good cover and a defensible position." Smokescreen crouched behind cover alongside Wheeljack who was holding a kind of patch across his shoulder wound. On Wheeljack's other side was Jazz. Beyond Jazz were the other wounded, Tracks and Silverstreak, both deep in stasis lock from torso wounds. Nearby Swerve and Windcharger kept up fire towards the Decepticon positions while the three senior Autobots conferred.

"And we're down to four guns now," said Jazz.

"Where's Hound?"

"That's not important."

"What do you mean Jazz?" asked the suddenly astonished Wheeljack.

"He's not here is he?"

"But if we can find out, and get Skids, Grimlock and Sideswipe up here we can easily outgun them."

"Ifs and buts. They are not here. Smokescreen, the others will give you covering fire and you'll get close enough to the Decepticon position to drop this," Jazz reached behind him and pulled one of Tracks missiles off its launch rail, none too gently. "You may not be able to fire it but you can use it like a grenade." Jazz manipulated a panel on the missile, finding a setting and altering it before slapping the long white tube into Smokescreens hand.

"Jazz that's ridic..."

"Do it!" Jazz was as angry as Wheeljack had ever seen. Smokescreen looked at Jazz for a few moments before turning back towards.

"Smokey, give us a moment." Smokescreen turned back towards his previous position at the makeshift barricade of ancient rubble. "Jazz, you've got resources here; you don't have to act like a small unit leader. A multi-axis attack..."

"Wheeljack," Jazz voice sounded strained. "You know I value your advice old friend, but I've been doing this sort of thing in outer rim skirmishes..."

"Jazz this is Earth. Not some zero gee asteroid backwater facing 'cons that are pirates as much as soldiers. That purple beam that's been hosing back and forth, does that remind you of anyone we know? This is the varsity we're facing here, you have to be more flexible than an up the middle rush." For a moment Wheeljack thought he had gotten through to the Mazda.

Was it that simple? Wheeljack asked himself. Had Jazz being fighting pirates so long that that fighting effective troops was something he was no longer familiar with? Had the weight of expectation Ultra Magnus had placed on his relatively inexperienced shoulders been too much?

"This isn't a rush, I'm not risking anyone. Smokescreen will use cover all the way." Wheeljack thought back along an alternative route from what he had seen prior to being placed behind cover with a gaping hole in his torso armour.

"That will take forever. That thing up there is building up to something and soon, else the 'Cons wouldn't have revealed themselves so quickly."

"Wheeljack, I just don't see it that way. But I have a backup plan as well. Windcharger!"

"Over here men!" Windcharger's antics might have lightened the mood, but it didn't.

"Get here now!" A chastised Windcharger appeared from behind some of the masonry. "Never yell out like that over a battlefield you thick headed Stunticon, you give away your position. In a minute Smokescreen will be make a move up the battlefield. When he does I want you to use your magnetic manipulators to interfere with that... thing."

"How?"

"I don't know, I don't know how they work - but I want those Decepticons distracted. Got it?"

"Yes Jazz."

"Smokescreen go!" Smokescreen stood and immediately took a round in the shoulder and collapsed backwards. Jazz cursed loudly.

"Swerve! Grab the missile from Smokescreen and take his role. Ready? Go!" Swerve made to stand when a voice erupted across Autobot lines.

"NO!"

"What?" Jazz turned, has face blazing. Stomping towards them, oblivious of the flying lazers was a tall grey figure with another in red at his back. His visored gaze looked straight back at Jazz.

"Me Grimlock have better strategy."

Next: Chapter 32: Regroup & Re-motivate


	32. Regroup & Re-motivate

An arm missing, one side of his cranial armour and a knee joint broken, Ravage made a pathetic figure. Partially exhausted and on the defensive, the Decepticon had been no match for the sheer ferocity of Prowl's screeched assault. Each blow from the energon nunchakus left a glaring, sparking welt, and the speed of the frenzied attack belied Prowl's conservative reputation. Looking on Grimlock could barely believe the scene unfolding before him.

This was Prowl! The coldly analytical killjoy, who told Optimus Prime that Grimlock's plans were foolhardy, high on risk for return, or likely ineffective, using waves of numbers to illustrate flaws that Grimlock barely understood at times. The attack had begun to ease as Ravage sagged but suddenly he seemed to find something.

Ravage rammed his ruined surviving arm into Prowls torso and yelled in a shouted whisper;

"For the glory of Cybertron!" Ravage's wrecked wrist mounted gun discharged explosively, consuming the arm and throwing back Prowl twice his bodylength. Grimlock ran as best he was able.

Ravage lay twitching. Prowl sat heavily, sighed once and collapsed backwards to the ground, his abdomen split open and ruined.

"Grimlock, a moment please." This was not the crazed berserker of a minute ago; Grimlock could almost believe the straight laced strategist had returned. Grimlock walked over and bent towards the Honda. A black and white arm reached rapidly up and gripped Grimlock behind his neck, pulling the Mustang downwards, and Prowl upwards, pulling his head in close. One of his devil red antennae horns had been smashed asunder and delicate internals of Prowl's brain case flashed and sparked. Grimlock could see Prowl's nano-mite repair systems working feverishly to restore what they could.

"Grimlock," the voice, while quiet, was sharp and clear. "This is important. Stop looking at me and that bucket of Soundwave's waste. Win the battle. The aftermath is exactly that, after. Go, take command." The strength in the grip on Grimlock's neck relaxed and Prowl collapsed backwards to the ground. Grimlock stood and looked down at the strategist. The blue eyes sparked once and faded, the nano-mites ceasing to function.

A lot of Autobots ridiculed the concept of heroism, and those who wanted to be heroes, instead favouring the concept of good soldiering and team work. Grimlock knew that to a certain extent they were right. But he also knew they were wrong. In the heat of battle a single moment of selflessness, of utterly impractical risk taking, could make all the world of difference, and could turn the tide of battle completely. Grimlock remembered vividly the example that had been set for him. During the battle for Autobot City Grimlock had led his Dinobots against Devastator, and succeeded in taking the gestalt down. Grimlock himself had been left injured and impaired, unable to move, but not injured enough for the refuge of stasis lock.

He had had a grandstand seat at Optimus Prime's last stand.

Grimlock and Optimus had never gotten along. Optimus was soft. He would look for peaceable options when force was obviously the best method for results. Optimus support structure had more often than not prevented Grimlock from putting his own stratagems forward. Insulated from command structure by Prowl, Ironhide and Jazz, Grimlock had either bided his time, or when it was called for, rebelled. He never appreciated Optimus Prime until it was too late. Watching Megatron be taken down by Optimus completely changed the attitude of battle. The Autobots had rallied, and pushed back hard, pushing the Decepticons back to the City outskirts. The Decepticons looked to Starscream who snarled and called for Astrotrain to evacuate, rather than pursue an action he had never been in favour of in the first place.

Grimlock had watched, and learned.

Now he would put those lessons to action. Heroism was not some random rash act miraculously pulled off, or at least it did not have to be. It could planned and executed like any other stratagem, and Grimlock now had the plan. First he had to supersede Jazz.

The former Dinobot Commander stepped over the corpse of Ravage and gave Prowl no further thought. After briefly assessing Skids and Hound, he stepped towards the forgotten comatose form in the area. Grabbing Sideswipe by one shoulder, he plugged an extruded wire from the hand into Sideswipes cranial armour at a carefully hidden port. Using his other hand, and timing it with pumped charges of energon he twice slapped Sideswipe across the face, neither slap was gentle. The scarlet warrior snapped awake with a start.

"Where's Dead End?" he said aggressively, starting to push Grimlock to one side. Grimlock slapped him again, harder. The physical admonishment refocussed the enraged Viper at Grimlock.

"Be silent fool. There Decepticons here. Many Autobots wounded. You play part or do selfish revenge kill?" Sideswipe turned his head to the left, taking in the sight of the four bodies scattered about, three of them greying into death. As Grimlock watched, the redness in Sideswipe's eyes retreated. Grimlock dropped him at that point, retracting the wire, and stood. He stomped towards the noise of battle with firmness in his step he had never felt before in this frame. Sideswipe climbed to his feet behind him and followed, followed Grimlock's lead.

It felt good to be back.

"Swerve! Grab the missile from Smokescreen and take his role. Ready? Go!" Swerve made to stand at Jazz command when Grimlock decided it was time to intercede.

"NO!"

"What?" Jazz turned, has face blazing with anger as Grimlock approached. Returning the gaze with every inch of command he could muster he closed on Jazz and Wheeljack with Sideswipe at his heels.

"Me Grimlock have better strategy. Jazz be wasteful, throw Autobot advantage away with caution. Jazz be in outer space too long. Forgotten ground fight tactics." Grimlock immediately sensed Wheeljack was on side. Wheejack was a good friend again. In truth Grimlock now realised, he always had been, and it now pained Grimlock to see the engineer so wounded. But friendship and medical conditions had to be stood aside.

"Wheeljack hold rifle?"

"Sure," said Wheeljack.

"Tracks and Bluestreak?"

"Tracks no, I might be able to revive Bluestreak although Skids could do a more accurate job," adjudged Wheeljack. Grimlock noted the engineers shoulder was ruined with a large hole in his torso armour. His left arm hung by a few wires and was useless.

"Look Grimlock, where are Skids, and Hound?"

"Had fight with Ravage."

"Ravage?!" Jazz and Wheeljack exclaimed together.

"We've taken casualties," added Sideswipe sadly.

"Care for wounded and mourn dead later. Focus on Decepticons. Where enemy?"

"There are three guns, one of which is likely to be Shockwave," said Smokescreen, adjusting to the apparent change in command with nary a pause in thought. "They change locations regularly, with one operating solo and two operating in a pair."

"Or Shockwave hold weapon in other hand and only two 'Cons." Grimlock looked up towards the ziggurat. "They keep close to base of old thing under Heart of Cybertron?"

"Yes."

"We know when change position?"

"A good idea, yes."

"This plan. Next time Shockwave with two guns stop firing all able Autobots leave cover and charge. Other gun not able to stop all. Me Grimlock think they retreat up old thing and pin down from up top of tower. More exposed but better field of fire for them, but we closer. How many able?"

"Me," said Jazz, acquiescing to the inevitable. "You, Sideswipe, Swerve, Smokescreen?"

"I'm good. It was just a scratch," confirmed the blue Subaru.

"And Windcharger," completed Jazz.

"Wheeljack, wake Blustreak and give cover fire. Windcharger hang back and wait call. Jazz, Swerve, Sideswipe, Smokescreen with me. Swerve fire missile at other 'Con as we charge. Wheeljack give me Dead End gun. We find him he fight with us."

"That bucket of waste, not on my," Sideswipe's rant stopped mid sentence stopped abruptly as Grimlock leaned across and cuffed the Viper none too gently across the face.

"Do job now. No argue. Go on Jazz call." Grimlock grabbed the 'grenade' missile from Smokescreen and handed to Swerve. "Fill empty rail." Swerve loaded Tracks' missile into position as Silverstreak groaned into wakefulness under Wheeljack's ministrations. Grimlock moved over and handed the wounded Subaru his rifle.

"Shoot Decepticons."

"Grimlock," the Praxian survivor looked into Grimlock's impassive visage and smiled broadly. "You have found yourself and returned to the path. Rejoice Autobots for one has rejoined us."

"Thank Prowl later,” Grimlock said obliquely. “Ready?" There was a chorus of acknowledgements and everyone crept behind rubble, some hiding, some peeking over and adding to Windcharger, Wheeljack and Silverstreaks fire. Jazz just watched and waited for the purple beam to cease returning fire.

"NOW!"

 

Next: Chapter 33: Sparks & Shocks


	33. Sparks & Shocks

"Mark!" Shockwave called again as he changed position. Decepticharge looked up and poke his rifle down range in time to see Grimlock and Swerve standing. Grimlock was running forward, weapon in each hand, Swerve...

A smoke trail erupted from Swerve and Decepticharge ducked backwards and the missile whistled in and impacted at his position, blowing ancient masonry in all directions. Looking to his right, Shockwave had been caught in the open and was being pursued by fire from several directions. Looking back towards the Autobots, several were now following Grimlock's lead, yelling as they came, firing haphazardly while on the run. Decepticharge struggled to clear his head and raised his rifle once more to return fire.

"Shockwave, we have to retreat to the top of the ziggurat. I can't stop them all." The dark blue Operations Commander immediately turned and ran back towards the chunky pyramid and climbed rapidly up the small structure.

"Acknowledged." Decepticharge studied the coloured glow coming from the top of the structure. While still mostly white it had now acquired some golden highlights. Not enough, but it would have to do. He needed a captive Autobot for it to work, but Ravage had not succeeded in returning with one and now separating one from the herd was going to be exceedingly difficult. Decepticharge had briefly considered using Dead End, but the link to Dead End through Menasor still remained and there was no telling how me might be affected. He was going to have to consider other options to complete the device.

The Autobots had now reached the last line of cover, putting Dead End beyond his reach in any case and Decepticharge stood and sprinted from cover behind Shockwave's guns while Grimlock and company hunkered down.

Autobot fire now lanced out from two positions, and worst there was a missile carrier snuck into close range somewhere. Decepticharge reached the top, turned and pointed his own long barrelled weapon down range, firing back to where he thought Grimlock was concealed.

 

Grimlock turned and hunkered down as he was peppered by the unknown Decepticon. When the Autobots had overrun the former Decepticon positions a cowering hidden unarmed Dead End had been discovered. Sideswipe took a step towards him but Grimlock pushed him back into cover behind another of the old stone buildings as Shockwave sprayed fire in Sideswipe's direction. Grimlock dived down beside Dead End and handed him his own sub-rifle.

"What Shockwave plan?"

"It's Wildriders plan," said Dead End in almost a whimper as he looked over his rifle as if unsure what it was. "He's not quite ready yet. But he wants to absorb that thing into himself like Megatron did."

Grimlock considered Dead End's words briefly. Wildrider?

"Phase two now." Jazz, Sideswipe and Grimlock stood from cover while Smokescreen produced his own missile launcher that he had not produced previously, while further back Windcharger now made his own staggered run forwards, while Wheeljack and Silverstreak protected him as best as they could. Swerve too stood, readying a missile but stood on the wrong stone cylinder which rolled from underneath him, tipping him forward onto his face.

Smokescreen's missile exploded in the air, upwind of the ziggurat with a small explosion but produced a lot of smoke. That smoke intensified and was laced with polished and magnetised finite metallic particles rendering everyone’s sensors useless. Grimlock led Jazz and Sideswipe upwards into the thick artificial cloud and disappeared from sight as Smokescreen helped Swerve back to cover and Windcharger flopped down beside Dead End.

"Soon be over now trooper," Windcharger said to Dead End in his ridiculous baritone, the sound of it strangely calmed Dead End, who looked at the Honda in astonishment, his mind no longer on the weapons fire which now came to a halt. Windcharger grinned back at him. "Only natural to be nervous, son. We've got them on the run now; I expect we won't need any final solutions after all."

 

"They're coming Shockwave be ready." Shockwave made no response to Decepticharge's assertion, but dropped his rifle nonetheless as the thick cloud surrounded the pinnacle of the ziggurat. Out of the gloom appeared Grimlock with Sideswipe at his heels. Sideswipe change direction and ran for Shockwave while Grimlock bore straight on. Decepticharge was ready and planted a flying kick at Grimlock, using the Autobots bulk to lean against and regain his own balance while the Autobot tumbled back into the cloud. Looking to his left Sideswipe grappled directly with Shockwave, the pair holding Shockwave's gun arm high, preventing Shockwave from bringing it to bear. Jazz was crouched beside the reconstructed containment facility for the re-born Heart of Cybertron. The Heart wasn't ready though. Shooting Jazz in the back, then Sideswipe, he grabbed Shockwave by the wrist he still had as Grimlock re-emerged into the plateau atop the ancient human structure. Decepticharge snarled then pushed the off-balance Decepticon Military Operations Commander directly into the globe of golden-white light.

"You're too late Autobots! You never realised did you? Do you know what gave the Heart of Cybertron its unique power? Do you know why Optimus Prime never had any contact with Sentinel Prime through the matrix?"

The three Autobots paused; hanging on Decepticharge's every word. A sharp electronic howl emerged from the globe of light as Shockwave's body was consumed.

"The Heart of Cybertron itself was the captured spark of Sentinel Prime that Megatron personal tore from his frame. Now the Heart is recreated, and mine to command." Shockwave's dieing howl echoed through the frames of every Cybertonian on the plateau. It reminded Decepticharge of the one time he had heard Soundwave scream. Spreading arms and legs wide, raw power flooded from his new creation into his body. He turned and pointed towards Sideswipe and lightning coursed out of his outstretched fingers.

Next: Chapter 34: Magnets & Miracles


	34. Magnets & Miracles

Jazz still felt a crippling pain in his back, he ignored it to stand and be ready while it looked like this strange unknown Decepticon picked and chose who to hurt. In the end he picked Sideswipe, but Grimlock was moving first, grabbing Sideswipe by his left shoulder pulling him downwards and back into Smokescreen's rapidly thinning smokescreen. Jazz followed with only slightly more decorum in that he kept his footing while the others rolled and crashed down the short jagged slope before racing for cover behind the stonework of the Mayan citadel, which if it wasn't rubble before, certainly was now.

"Did you hear what he said?

"Me Grimlock not believe. Belief not matter. Wildrider shoot lightning from fingers."

"Wait. Wildrider? He's dead." Sideswipe found himself ignored.

"That's what I thought too..." began Dead End sadly.

"You SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" Sideswipe raised his sub-rifle at Dead End's head and fired as Grimlock batted the gun away.

"SIDESWIPE CONCENTRATE ON ENEMY." Grimlock's voice rattled the braincases of everyone present. "What we know?" Jazz was ready for the question and answered with a question of his own.

"Why isn't he taking the heart into his own body like Megatron did?

"That matter?"

"Of course it matters. We're not fighting Wildrider. We're fighting the weapon he wields," persisted Jazz. Since Grimlock had taken command, Jazz felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulder and his thought processes had returned to the lateral direction they once regularly frequented.

"He can better armour the Heart inside a frame. Windcharger you have the same frame, is there room in there?"

"It matters not; this Stunticon is no match for..."

"I'm sorry I asked. There must be same logical reason why he's not done so." Jazz looked upwards thoughtfully. The thinning smokescreen glowed brightly for a brief moment, a million tiny points of light and faded quickly revealing a small descending layer of soot and Wildrider, standing arms and legs akimbo, energy crackling over the Hondas form. His upward pointing head descended to look down at the Autobots hiding behind their flimsy makeshift barricades of ancient masonry. One rifle from further back on site was firing again now, but only one. Likely one of Wheeljack or Silverstreak had succumbed to stasis lock.

The faux-Heart bobbed into view, now the size of an Autobot fist, floating on the air, dismissing gravity as a concept for lesser beings. It seemed to be indicative as Wildrider adopted a crucifix pose with arms stretched forward and rose into the air before flying slowly down the steps of the ziggurat towards the Autobots.

"Oh slag," said Smokescreen quietly.

"Retreat!" Jazz found himself giving that most painful of order. Swerve was first up and got two steps before being blasted to one side by a crackle of lightning from the oncoming apparition. The others were up now and retreating now under the feeble cover fire from the rear. Smokescreen stopped to grab Swerve, leaving Jazz and Grimlock alone as the Decepticon descended towards them.

"You'd better go Grimlock. I'll try and hold it off." Grimlock looked briefly at Jazz before retreating himself, running at full speed with a more co-ordinated fire suppression reaching out and past him. Jazz did not waste time looking after the former Dinobot. Producing small satchel from a compartment in his armour, Jazz placed it carefully on a stone, directly in Wildrider's path. It was at this point Jazz realised Dead End was still there, staring at his former team mate as if the humans legendary Grim Reaper had arrived. Thinking that Wildrider would likely not care about the brand on his chest, Jazz grabbed the Decepticon under one shoulder and dragged him over the rubble away from the brightly glowing gold and black figure. Jazz fired off a few shots at approaching point blank range before turning to run, pushing the black Viper ahead of him.

Jazz was suddenly knocked against Dead End then pushed flat. He never heard the explosive discharge of the satchel charge but the falling fragments of stone and soil certainly indicated it had gone off. Dead End no longer needed urging and the pair were quickly up and running again. Ahead he could see Sideswipe and Smokescreen each carrying the wounded Tracks and Silverstreak back towards the access road, and for the first time noticed some figures lying prone and unmoving beyond that.

"Dead End..." The voice behind them sounded in multiples, as though many were pursuing. Dead End paid no heed and leapt of the original line of defence as Jazz looked for cover for himself. Wheeljack was still there firing away with the others.

"Dead End," this time the voice was Grimlock's. "Take Wheeljack to rear now." To his credit the Decepticon did not hesitate, grabbing a protesting Wheeljack by his intact arm, hoisting him to his feet.

A rushing sound filled the glade as Jazz turned to face the oncoming threat. Another of Swerve's missiles rushed down range, meeting and detonating against the target. Wildrider appeared unharmed by either the missile or the satchel charge. On the other side of the barricade behind Swerve's steady fire, Grimlock was talking with Windcharger, but Jazz could not make out the conversation. Not knowing what else to do Jazz raised a rifle and fired back towards Wildrider who ignored at as always. Sideswipe thumped down beside Jazz a few moments later, raising his sub-rifle to fire as well.

"Doesn't anyone have any heavy weapons anymore?" Protested the scarlet and black warrior, bemoaning the times past when they packed a greater punch.

"How's Tracks and Blustreak?" In a moment of stress Jazz forgot the Subaru's new identity.

"Stable but out for awhile." Jazz looked at the faux-Heart and saw it wa strobing. This gave Jazz a thought and after giving Sideswipe a re-assuring pat on the shoulder, raced across open ground. A form of energy clipped him in the already wounded back and the world spun around Jazz for a moment before hitting him with the up-rushing ground.

"Jazz back to foolhardy?"

"I guess so Grims, you're a liberatin' influence," and Jazz felt himself grinning madly, for the first time since he returned to Earth. There was something about hopeless odds. "You see that thing strobing?"

"Me Grimlock think heart thing not right. Maybe not ready for Shockwave spark. Me Grimlock have plan. Take Sideswipe and Smokescreen. Get behind Stunticon. Encircle and shoot while prepare trap." Jazz nodded and was up and running back across open ground to his former position. He could feel torn armour plates in his back grinding and scraping painfully as his shoulders moved. Tapping the two warriors in turn he motioned to follow him while Grimlock was deploying the rest on the other side. Jazz speculated briefly over the nature of the trap.

Within mere seconds the Autobots had redeployed and were now firing again, careful not to shoot at fellows on the other side of Wildrider. Both the hovering Decepticon and the faux-Heart were taking hits. While Wildrider ignored it, instability in the small globe of light increased with each hit. Wildrider turned this way and that, as if seeking those shooting specifically at the faux-Heart, sending bolts of energon lightning back along return bearings. To Jazz' left Smokescreen cried out as lightning flashed and fire stopped tracking inwards from his position.

Over the Autobot communications he heard Grimlock shout. Windcharger had reached a vantage point, from the top of a nearby human structure and had his own arms stretched out. Jazz could feel strange energies washing around and guessed Windcharger had powered up his electro magnetic generators. But what could that achieve?

Then Jazz realised how far distant was Windcharger.

Wildrider was now studying the faux-Heart, holding a hand each side of it as if trying to communicate with it. Looking up he saw Windcharger now sitting astride the transformed form of Swerve who was rushing forwards, closing the range. Something cried out and Jazz realised he had stopped firing at Wildrider and pointed his rifle once more. Wildrider arched backwards suddenly, no obviously in discomfort.

"Goodbye my friends." The voice was Windcharger's over radio. Jazz momentarily looked at Windcharger, no longer on Swerve, who now retreated rapidly. Windchargers outstretched hands were pushed together at the wrist, cupping outwards forming a circle. His mouth was spread wide in some wordless cry of effort or pain. His visored eyes glowed with energies from within, pushing outwards, encircling and PUSHing. There was an audible cry and Windcharger wrenched his arms violently wide. Jazz, looking at the faux-Heart saw it ripped apart via the magnetic energies unleashed and the shell scattered in all directions. The spark within faded rapidly and sank into the soil and was lost.

Wildrider too had faded and with his strings suddenly cut, fell to the ground and buckled to his knees. All firing had stopped and the Autobots had emerged from cover, except Sideswipe who had run immediately forward and now stood directly in front of the Decepticon.

The slumped figure looked dazed and drained and did not seem to comprehend his surroundings. His once burnished metallic armour was now covered in a sickly yellow oxide. Sideswipes sub-rifle bumped against Wildrider's forehead and the Decepticon looked upwards at the red and black Viper. Sideswipe had five words for him.

"For Sunstreaker," he intoned coldly, his voice that of Death itself come to collect payment, "and for Windcharger." A full power burst ventilated Wildrider's braincase, splashing mech fluid everywhere and leaving the cranial armour split wide open. The unthinking corpse rocked backwards on its knees and collapsed.

It was only then the Sideswipe's words sunk in. Windcharger was nowhere in sight. Jazz took a step forwards and almost fell as he stumbled on a large object. Looking down he saw a large piece of Windcharger's torso and right hip. The chest was bare and the spark chamber was absent. Looking up he now recognised pieces on Windcharger scattered around the rough circular clearing they had pinned Wildrider to.

Never had Jazz felt so sick. Not even after seeing the devastation on Cybertron after emerging from the pit of Unicron at Rodimus’ heels, with Springer, Arcee, Kup, Cliffjumper, Bumblebee and the Witwickys. Spike was dead. So was Bumblebee. Now Windcharger and whoever else was back there where they had left Prowl. At least Jazz knew Prowl would be alright. Likely he was not even aware a battle had taken place.

Grimlock strode towards Jazz as Swerve ran towards Smokescreen's position to Jazz left. Sideswipe stood still in the centre of the clearing, staring at Wildrider's remains while mech fluid ran down the front of his armour. Dead End appeared from his position and picked up a piece of debris the size...

Windchargers...

"You knew it would kill him."

"Thought likely," said Grimlock quietly. "You not have stomach for that." It was a statement. And Jazz knew Grimlock was right. There was no way Jazz would have ordered Windcharger to sacrifice himself like that.

“Me Grimlock had to lead. To do what must.”

“Yeah.” Jazz looked upwards into the now night sky and looked through the starscape, looking for the Earth constellation that once indicated the direction of Cybertron twenty years ago. The memory proved elusive and Jazz just stared, thinking of those who would never see home again, and wondering if he would as well.

Next: Chapter 35: Morning & Mourning


	35. Morning & Mourning

It was a two weeks later when the Autobots were able to gather together as one group again. Wheeljack had only been walking again with full use of his left arm for two days. He rotated his left arm again, gently easing away a burr in his rotator cuff.

The aftermath had left them with debris and questions. First priority had been to tend to the wounded. Jazz had had that covered as he had called in the US military the moment the fighting began but the human troops arrived a day late to participate, thanks to jurisdictional problems with the Guatemalan Defence Force. The wounded were medivacced down the mountains by MH-53 Super Stallion helicopters which had been carrying the American Special Forces troops, before each being transferred to their own C-17 Globemaster for the flight back to the United States.

The walking wounded and those relatively intact had to make their own way home. Grimlock stayed behind to supervise the transfer of those lost in the conflict, knowing his ability to deal with human bureaucracy would be beyond him, and delegated the leadership he had taken by force, back to Jazz, who then supervised everyone's repatriation to the US.

The US Army had been reluctant for the service to take place at all, but they recognised the need for the Autobots to heal themselves. The wounded, like Wheeljack himself, had been transferred to the old facilities at Autobot City in Colorado. Once those who could be repaired had started on the journey towards health, they had been transferred back to the Binaltech facility in Nevada for further treatment and to move into the informal Autobot barracks there. For today’s ceremony they had transformed and rolled eastwards in the early hours of the morning, to the US Air Force's super secret facility at Groom Lake for some security from prying eyes. They adopted the human custom for remembrance ceremonies and began in the pre-dawn darkness. A few spotlights were mounted around to give the few humans present a sense of where the giant warriors stood.

Autobots... Transformers arrived as individuals or in pairs before lining up in a parade line. Wheeljack had been contemplating the horizon, now turned to rejoin his fellows. The reason for Wheeljack to mentally re-categorize the group was the one who caught his eye first. Dead End had joined the line of Autobots and stood between Swerve and Smokescreen. Notably Sideswipe stood at the far end of the line, maintain as much distance as he could while still being civil. Wheeljack took his place in the line between fellow veterans of the Terran wars, Jazz and Silverstreak. On the other side of Jazz, stood Grimlock, and at his command the talking stopped and the Decpticon and Autobots snapped to attention along with the humans present.

There was silence for a long moment and Wheeljack briefly speculated that Grimlock had forgotten what to do when he stepped forward and walked across the seemingly abandoned concrete airstrip and turned to face them upon reaching the centreline.

"Autobots, Decepticons, humans. This day we are gathered," Grimlock spoke painfully slowly and now paused. Wheeljack had been coaching the former Dinobot for the two days he had been here in trying to get the brief words out correctly past his corrupted syntax. It took a tremendous effort of will for Grimlock to deliberately say the words in the order he wanted to without letting his translator succumb to its irregularities. Gathering himself he continued.

"We are gathered to remember friends lost. These were friends not lost from decay but those who gave their lives val... val..." again Grimlock paused, but Wheeljack had watched this Autobot fight his own way past a suicidal depression to once again proudly lead soldiers in battle. He would never doubt his determination again. "Valiantly! for others that their lives might go on without the threat of op... optim... oppression. They gave up all they were for their fellows. Me... I Grimlock salute you all."

Wheeljack's spark almost burst with pride as Grimlock thumped his breastplate with his closed left fist over his spark chamber, before returning to the line. Jazz was the next to step across the ramp, spinning smartly on the spot when he reached the spot where Grimlock had stood.

"Specifically here today we lay to rest the remains of four warriors, but recent events give us cause to remember others as well. These events began in part with the death of Suns..." Jazz paused. Originally Sideswipe was supposed to say something here for his lost brother, but he said he could not. Even over a year later the pain was still too much for him. Now however the scarlet figure strode determinedly forward to stand by Jazz.

"Sunstreaker was my brother. It is a human term with several meanings. The concept of family is one unfamiliar to our race, but, Sunstreaker and I were kindred spirits. We had fought together since emerging from template, and shared our entire lives. We revelled in our abilities in the arts of war we believed firmly we would live forever no matter what was hurled at us. Not even Unicron could defeat us. He was full of himself, but that was based on an immense self-belief, and that confidence saved both him and many of his fellows several times over the vorns."

"But it was that bond that would separate us. When warriors’ logic dictated that Sunstreaker should have abandoned his post, he did not, because I was vulnerable. He gave his life for..." Sideswipe's voice grew shaky and his hands trembled ever so slightly, while the rest of his frame stood ramrod straight. Jazz reached over patted Sideswipes shoulder twice.

"For his brother in arms. Streaks, I will never forget you, never forget what we had and what we shared. Every step I take from this point, I walk it for you." The red Autobot returned to his place in the line. Standing next to him Tracks momentarily gripped Sideswipe's shoulder until Sideswipe nodded at the Chevrolet. He looked on the edge of breaking down but remained standing. After a pause Jazz resumed.

"We should also remember General Perkele A. Stewart. His organisation represented his country and stood fast against all extra-normal threats to it and were instrumental in helping those Autobots aboard the Ark integrate into American society as best as could be achieved and his team proved invaluable allies during the Terran Wars. His life was lost early in this conflict, without him knowing why or what was at stake. While he has already been venerated by his colleagues in the past week, we were his colleagues to. I will be leading a pilgrimage to Camp David tomorrow where he has been added to a memorial to those lost in conflicts that is to be kept secret from the human civilian public, and I invite you all to join me. He was a close personal friend of Optimus Prime, despite their rank. Maybe if the Well of the Allsparks would allow it, Hawk could visit with Optimus. GO JOE!" Jazz added a snappy human salute to the last exclamation and the gathered transformers, even Dead End, returned it with vigour after a ragged attempt at joining Jazz in the signature war cry of the black ops paramilitary unit.

Jazz remained where he was as Dead End made his way across the ramp. Dead End's black frame stood out from the lighter colours of the others, further highlighting the differences he had stood for. Now as far as anyone could determine, he was the last Decepticon alive on Earth. Today the timid figure had taken the time to polish the Deceptibrand that stood starkly on his grey breastplate.

"Swindle was rare amongst Decepticons. While we all believed in the Dececpticon cause, to varying degrees, and there were many of us who had their own agendas, Swindle had his own perspective. While he always looked out for number one, and indeed was legend for doing so, he also believed in a code of behaviour, while not what some might call honour, it was nonetheless a quality I lacked and one I looked up to him for. He died trying to create a new life for himself, like more honourable than the one he had led of recent times." Dead End walked firmly back to his place as Swerve passed him. He turned too quickly and almost stumbled but caught himself. For a long moment he looked like he had no idea what to say at all. His hands fidgeted with each other while his eyes ran back and forth along the line of warriors.

"Windcharger was a Minibot like me. We all had a special kind of courage just to fight alongside you big bruisers, chances were we'd get a Seeker to square off on in battle rather than one of Soundwave's cadre. We bore the burnt of that discomfort in a variety of ways. Many of us became specialists. Windcharger was in his own way a purists and remained a soldier. But he did like to run. During recent years his flashiness brought him a new audience, and that took him away from us and left him unrecognisable when he returned. And yet his actions were the most heroic of all and he was able to put down Wildrider when all seemed lost. These wars have claimed a lot us little guys, but I remember each one of you, and while physically I'm no longer a Minibot, I'll forever feel a part of a special group, for your part in that Charger, I'll be forever thankful."

And then it was Wheeljack's turn. One Autobot life had been lost in transit during the evacuation of Guatemala having survived the battle. Wheeljack nodded at Swerve as he returned to the line and walked across the concrete, feeling each grit of desert sand as he strode across the ramp to Jazz' side. The engineer turned and felt what Swerve and Dead End had been nervous about as eight faces looked back at him. Composing himself Wheeljack began to speak.

"Hound like Jazz, Silverstreak, Sideswipe, and myself and... Prowl, Windcharger and Sunstreaker, were part of the original Ark crew that were shipwrecked here in America when our war first travelled off-world. We had our own bond, this survivors group that slept through the long dark while Cybertron starved and once we woke from our isolation from home together. Hound excelled with scouting the lie of the land, mapping the terrain, and creating three dimensional models. With Trailbreaker's force field generator the pair were able to create 3d solidgrams that could have you mistaking for a real object until they disappeared the fake chair from under you.

Hound loved the Earth. In truth he loved it more than Cybertron and was one of the first to return to Earth after the Unicron war. He loved the exploration of it, each new kilometre travelled revealed a new fascinating discovery. He loved to get the sandy grit of this world beneath his wheels and drive as far as a tank of energon could take him. That he discovered the threat of the last month left him gravely concerned for the health of his adopted world and he felt a great sense of loss over Wildrider's schemes had turned this world of greens, blues and browns into the black and grey of Cybertron. That he sacrificed his life to safeguard this world will see him at peace in the Matrix." Wheeljack returned to his place in the line as Jazz straightened once more.

Once Prowl had been, to the best of available knowledge, Prime. He never formally adopted, or even accepted the title but acted in Optimus' stead when big red went missing in action, after being disassembled by the Decepticons for several months shortly after the Ark crew revived. Now, as a Prime, no matter how temporary, protocol made seperate demands on this service. All nine Autobots, even Skids, who had only arrived from Colorado that morning and still bore several scars from his fight with Ravage, bowed to one knee. Dead End remained standing, somewhat nervously.

"My life for the Prime." Nine voices chorused. Everyone stood again, Tracks and Silverstreak helping Skids to his feet again.

"Prowl struck some as cold and emotionless," said Jazz. "I knew different. We worked closely together during the Terran Wars, the two sides of Optimus Prime's operations office. We were as the humans say Yin and Yang. He had one of the most analytical minds you could ever come across and a genius and a photographic memory for tactics and strategy. He was the perfect foil for my own unorthodox behaviour. We had some real arguments. He may have been tough on Grimlock and Ironhide, but behind closed doors on the bridge we could really get stuck into it. Usually we would come to a compromise and then win the day. He had a quiet dry sense of humour that he seldom displayed, always preferring to keep a warriors mask on where possible aboard the Ark, he was big on discipline. Someone had to take on the unhappy role of disciplinarian and it was important that it not be Optimus. Prowl, together with Ironhide, performed that unpopular duty.

Prowl and I discovered the human game of chess and we'd play long games together, both of us practicing our own philosophies on warfare. We could both beat Optimus Prime whenever he felt the need to try to beat us though. Prowl was Prime for a short time. He wasn't good at it, but he was good enough and he got us through a particularly dark time here on Earth. He was my senior officer, my foil, my Prime, and he was my friend."

"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old. Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them."

A lone bugle started playing. Originally the Army bugler had offered to play 'Taps', but Jazz had insisted on his stylistic choice, 'The Last Post'. The ceremony had run longer than intended and the local star had already pushed the terminator across Groom Lake, heading westwards towards California.

Jazz finally returned to his place in the line between Grimlock and Wheeljack and the assemblage observed a minutes silence, before four missiles, one by one exploded off a rack mounted on the back of a dark green tracked human vehicle and thundered their towards the heavens above into the rapidly lightening skies of morning. From speakers mounted on the truck the sound of a large string section and an electric guitar cut through the still air of the desert morning. A male human voice and a second guitar added to the scene before horns and the recognisable elements of the rest of an orchestra appeared behind the backdrops of the guitars and the voice. Ever the unorthodox, Jazz had selected a ten year old piece of popular music to end the ceremony.

Mama, they try and break me.  
The window burns to light the way back home  
A light that warms no matter where they've gone.  
They're off to find the hero of the day  
But what if they should fall by someone's wicked way?  
Still the window burns, time so slowly turns  
Someone there is sighing  
Keepers of the flames  
Do you feel your names?  
Do you hear your babies crying?  
Mama they try and break me  
Still they try and break me  
'Scuse me while I tend to how I feel  
These things return to me that still seem real  
Now deservingly this easy chair  
But the rocking stops by wheels of despair  
Don't want your aid  
But the fist I've made for years won't hold or feel  
No I'm not all me  
So please excuse me while I tend to how I fell  
But now the dreams and waking screams that ever last through the night  
So build the wall behind it crawl and hide until it's light  
Can you hear your babies crying now?  
Still the window burns  
Time so slowly turns  
And someone there is sighing  
Keepers of the flames, can't you feel your names?  
Can't you hear your babies crying?  
But now the dreams and waking screams that  
ever last the night  
So build a wall behind it crawl  
And hide until it's light  
So can't you hear your babies crying now?  
Mama they try and break me  
Mama they try and break me  
Mama they try and break me  
Mama they try mama they try

Against the back drops of guitars and strings, a lone trumpet signalled an end to the song. There was a small commotion to Wheeljack's right and he sensed without looking that the disconsolate Sideswipe had finally given in to his grief that he had been bottling up for a year and a half.

Wheeljack turned as the line broke up. The small knot of humans present moved towards Jazz, while Wheeljack wanted to find Grimlock, but the former Dinobot had something more important to say and had found Dead End.

"What 'Con do now?"

"I hadn't thought that far ahead Grimlock. Plainly I can't stay here, it's going to be," Dead End paused, glancing to where Sideswipe and Tracks stood talking. "...upsetting to some."

"Me Grimlock say Sideswipe learn to deal. You friend of Autobots, maybe even become Autobot."

"You'll die of energon starvation within a local cycle out there," added Wheeljack.

"I... thank you both of you; this means a lot after the last year. I'd like very much to stay."

"But you'll be leaving," Sideswipe had arrived with Tracks in pursuit. "Now."

"Me Grimlock invite Dead End stay."

"Over my sparkless hull."

"Sideswipe, be reasonable," interjected Wheeljack. "We can't just let him starve to death."

"Sure we can. I'll sell tickets. I'll chase him to run him dry quicker. What if this was Ravage instead after he killed your mate, misery guts Prowl."

"You NOT talk like that about Prowl." Grimlock was letting his anger show now, and truth be told Wheeljack could feel his own hackles rising. Sideswipe was looking at Grimlock strangely as if he'd underestimated any bond between Prowl and Grimlock, perhaps he'd even been looking for sympathy from Prowl's long time rival.

"He stays?" Both Grimlock and Wheeljack folded their arms. "Streaks may have been comfortable with the lack of respect shown him while alive, but I'm not going to be around while you desecrate his memory with this... thing." Sideswipe spun on his heels and stalked away from the growing group, transforming as he did so into a red Dodge Viper convertible and sped off.

"I'm sorry Dead End. He'll come 'round in time," said Wheeljack.

"Don't be so certain," said Tracks quietly. "A rage as deep as that can consume a 'Bot." Tracks was not facing the group but looking at the receding dust cloud of Sideswipe. "I think someone should go with him for awhile, at least so he can keep in touch with who he is."

"You're leaving too."

"Jazz sunk to a low act to get me to come with him, and while he was right to do so, I still have a lot of anger towards him, and I have a life I would like to reconnect with. I'll visit, but don't expect the first one to be anytime soon."

"Me thank Tracks. Warriors still warriors whatever belief." Tracks actually smiled at Grimlock's statement. After a curt nod to all present he to strode off and assumed the shape of a blue Chevrolet Corvette and tore off after Sideswipe, heading Westwards, towards the Binaltech facility and the Interstate Highways beyond.

"Wheeljack, talk to Tracks later. Me Grimlock say no Autobot is island. We keep lamp in window for them."

"Sure big bot."

 

Some time later the red Viper trickled its way out through the gates of the Binaltech grounds and onto the short connecting road, travelling about a kilometre before happening on the first Nevadan Highway. The Viper flung itself across the intersection in four wheel drift, barely slowing down before taking off. Parked on the edge of the highway on the other side was another Viper, this one bright yellow with its hood up and its driver reclining in the driver’s seat. As the red Viper screamed past the bonnet closed itself and the vehicle fired into life and moved off after the second Viper.

"Unit One explain transponder movement." The driver awoke with a start at the abrupt radio call.

"Unit One are you receiving?"

"Affirmative Greyhound," responded the slim young female driver after keying a radio button. "Unit One is not responding sir and is abandoning observation post."

"Agent Shirakami, restore control." The dark haired, Asiatic featured driver cursed at the radio. Like that's not what I'd be doing.

"Unit One respond to my commands and respond NOW." Shirikami produced a keyboard and was accessing the on-board sensor suite. To her considerable surprise she found it locked onto the image of another Dodge Viper, fleeing ahead of them down the highway. Shirakami cursed the impractical nature of her skimpy form fitting lycra outfit as she called up and restored the original sensor settings.

"There! That'll stop you chasing after every red sports car you see. Unit One, resume station." The Viper slowed to a stop before swinging across the highway to head back towards its original parking position opposite the access road to the restricted facility that so interested her commanders. She recalled digital footage of what had happened while she dozed and saw the red Viper emerge from the access road. Looking up she now saw a blue Corvette fling itself onto the highway and take off past her and following the other Viper.

"Unit One back on station and I have a contact report, two vehicles emerged from the access road, a red Dodge Viper convertible and a blue Chevrolet Corvette convertible, both heading towards Las Vegas."

"Acknowledged Agent Skirakami, remain on station." The strangely dressed girl in her strangely operated car settled down to wait once more. She sighed heavily.

"Yes sir, whatever you say sir," she said without touching the radio. "If I don't get some action soon I'll lose my sanity. How about you Unit One?" The car of course did not answer.  
"I wonder what you'd say if you could talk..."

THE END

THE ALTERNATORS WILL RETURN IN:

TRANSFORMERS: ASTERISK - DESTINY


End file.
